


Stand and Deliver

by Thatlassiegotglassed



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Plunkett and Macleane (1999)
Genre: Adventure, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:50:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatlassiegotglassed/pseuds/Thatlassiegotglassed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William Plunkett is a poor man with a dream. The dream of swindling the rich and making his new start in America. Belle French is a noble who is at the end of her rope. When they meet, it is anything but ordinary. But can Belle fit into Plunkett's dream of America? And can Plunkett devise a plan to whisk her away from the gilded life she leads without being discovered?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue/Chapter 1

**_A/N: I do not own Once Upon a Time or its characters, nor do I own Plunkett and Macleane and all of its genius._ **

Now on with the Show. **** __

Prologue:

This was her fault. As she kneeled on the cool, muddy ground her yellow dress pooled around her knees. The silk soon became damp but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She opened her arms and Macleane handed his comrade off to her as gently as the dead weight would allow.

This was her fault. She stroked the hair away from his face and rubbed her thumb slowly along his cheek, taking the dirt off little by little and wiping the remnants on her dress. The hand that wasn't cradling his head reached down and took his hand, lacing their fingers. "Perfect fit, right?" she said softly with a smile, before it vanished and grief overcame her. While biting her bottom lip, the very first tear slipped down her cheek as she laid her forehead on his. There was no one left to be strong for. No one left that cared.

At the tears, Macleane turned outward to the dissipating crowd. With Rebecca in the crook of his arm he glared at the townsfolk, noble and peasant alike, daring anyone to interrupt the two lovers kneeling in the mud.

"This is my fault." She whispered against his cheek as rain began to fall and thunder rumbled quietly in the distance.

Chapter 1:

"Tosser." Macleane mumbled under his breath as he mounted his horse and spurred it into a canter after double checking his rucksack was secure on the saddle. Plunkett grabbed hold of his own reigns and slowly shook his head. Let the pup say what he likes. His partner in crime had a nasty habit of becoming bitter the morning after a bad night around the card table. His mood usually improved in half a fortnight, if they were lucky. But until then Plunkett would have to whether the broody storm.

Plunkett grabbed the saddle horn and pulled himself up, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth before the trusty animal lurched forward without so much as a kick. The sun was on its way down the horizon and they had a lot of new ground to cover in order to be ready for the night. This road was new and they had to learn the ins and outs of it before they attempted a robbery. Apparently, they currently traveled a highway that lead from the city to the small town of Davenport and to the even smaller, and oddly named, town of Winkler. Both small, but both wealthy. The elite of England used both towns as sort of summer estates. From Davenport, it was a short carriage ride to the sea and the expansive farmland of Winkler offered seclusion; the perfect place for the moral-less aristocrats to bask in the sun and hide from the sins of their daily lives.

"When you're done brooding, note the clump of tress due west of the fork. I don't right feel like getting captured because you galloped head on into a branch." Plunkett chuckled as his horse caught up to Macleane's and they slowed to a steady walk. Despite the mocking tone of his voice, he'd be damned if Macleane's insolence got him caught. He pulled lightly on the reigns and slowed even more, noting the dip in the road and steering around it. When his partner didn't respond to his halfhearted quip he looked to his right and raised an eyebrow. "Exactly how much did you lose to Rodchester and his dogs last night, eh?"

Macleane continued to look straight ahead but his grip tightened on the saddle horn, turning his knuckles white. He mumbled a response through his teeth.

"Didn't quite catch that," Plunkett replied as his stomach sank in thinking about the amount that Macleane laid down on the table to easily every night. They were far from their goal of gold that would get them to America, but every little bit helped and if Macleane was losing more than Plunkett had allotted for cards and drink then they would have a bigger problem on their hands than Macleane and his hurt pride. Through gritted teeth, he dared to ask again, "How…much…Macleane?"

"I lost the lot," he paused. "As well as the reserve for next week." He ducked and pulled his horse up short as his partner took a swing at him. Nearly slipping from the saddle, he dropped the reigns and held onto the animal's mane, lowering himself as much as possible.

"And I'm the tosser?" He swung again and landed a firm slap upside Macleane's head. "You're a ruddy git you know that? Do you know what that is fo-…"

"America! I know, I know." He paused as they began their walk back on the road as he muttered with as much remorse as he could muster for his friend. "It won't happen again."

Plunkett nodded and made a noise expressing disbelief before clicking his tongue again and starting back on the road. Now was not the time to be at odds with the lad, tonight if everything went their way, they would be sitting on a nice pile of coin by this time tomorrow.

But, one step at a time. He backed the mare into the edge of the woods so he was facing out towards the road and Macleane followed suit. The sun had dipped beyond the horizon and dusk had fallen over the road as well as the surrounding glen. Off in the distance the reigns and wheels of a carriage rattled along the bumpier section on the highway. Both men reached back in almost perfect unison, grabbing their masks and slipping them over their faces, making small adjustments for optimal eye sight. This was it, their first heist of the night. Plunkett let out a deep breath, in through the nose and then out through the mouth. Slow and steady. His breath crystallizing in the evening air ever so slightly. He was entering the place his subconscious went before a hold up. This place was quiet, closed off from the rest of him. It enabled the drive within that wasn't afraid to point the gun between the eyes of a nobleman and pull the trigger. It was them or him. This calm place inside his mind was not filled with self-righteousness but rather self-preservation. He pulled the gun from the holster at his waist, transferred the reigns to the other hand and looked to his partner.

"Stand and deliver?" Macleane said quietly with a smile that was only noticeable by the slight movement of the cloth on his cheeks.

Plunkett smiled back, despite their previous conversation, he couldn't help it. He nodded, "Aye, stand and fookin' deliver." With another click of his tongue, the mare galloped forward out of the woods and into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Lady Belle French reached up and adjusted the lamp next to the door of the carriage. The sun had set and it was becoming increasingly harder to read by the lamplight but she was going to try her hardest. She heard mumbling in the background as she tucked her legs up underneath her and smoothed out her dress, keeping her balance on the bench as the carriage gave a small jolt, before getting back to the words on the page. It was just starting to get good, having read the novel in her delicate hands numerous times, she knew the outcome but regardless it was her favorite part. A small smile spread across her lips as she licked the very tip of her finger to turn the dry page with ease. A tiny unconscious yelp escaped her lips as the book was snatched from her hands and snapped shut with a firm clack. She looked up with wide, pleading blue eyes and said quietly, "Papa, please! My place, you lost it and-.."

"You'll find it again, I have no doubt." He said gently with the firm undertones of a concerned parent before placing the book beside him on his side of the carriage.

"Papa, it's a long ride, we aren't doing anything important. I was almost to the part-" She tried again her voice betraying a hint of desperateness that she wished she could keep under wraps. However, when it came to her books, her emotions often got the best of her.

"Where the Prince realizes his true purpose? Where the villain reveals his plot? Where the pauper finds unexpected treasure? Which one is it this time child? You've read them all, you know what happens." He paused in his rant and wished he could take back the last few sentences. However childish he thought her love of literature may be, this was no way to speak to his only daughter. Moe French had been having a difficult few months in the city. His frustrations with parliament were coming out in his words and his little angel didn't deserve that. He let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes, "I'm sorry my girl." He handed her back her book and gave her hand a gentle squeeze as she took it and wrapped her arms around it, clutching the leather bound work to her chest like it was the most precious of items.

Belle didn't say anything back. She unfolded her legs and smoothed her skirt, sitting as a proper lady should, if only for the moment to appease her father. He didn't understand. He never did. They weren't just stories; they were a means of escape. Escape from this dreadful life of rules and expectations. Escape from the eyes of the London power hungry miscreants and their scornful looks that told Belle she wasn't lady like enough, she wasn't proper enough, she wasn't…enough at all. Belle never felt sorry for herself but at times she felt sorry for her father; sorry that she couldn't give him the daughter society wanted him to have. She read too much and practiced the piano too little. She thought too much and sewed too little. She wasn't wife material and she knew that, her father knew that, and their colleagues sought to remind them frequently. At the age of 20, instead of producing sons she was producing ideas. Any friends she might have almost had in their immediate circle had all but vanished as they were married off and began to raise their own families. At parties they often avoided her, Belle saw them whisper behind their fans as she passed, felt the conversation diminish as she entered the room, but she didn't care. They could talk if they liked, it didn't bother her. And despite her father's assumptions, she didn't consider herself lonely, for a lover of books never goes to bed alone. She closed her eyes and clutched the book tighter to her chest before exhaling slowly.

Her father straightened himself and began again, "This weekend will do you well dear. It will be a nice time away from the city and Gaston is coming up in a days time. That's exciting right?" He gave her a hopeful look at the mention of her potential suitor. If their time together went well over this short holiday, his pride and joy would be set for the rest of her life.

Gaston. Now there was a name she could have gone the rest of her life without hearing. Gaston Delacour was next in line to become a Lord of the Delacour estate. He was tall, he was handsome, he was ludicrously wealthy and he was the most vile man this side of England. Belle had no interest in him or his agenda with her, but the look on her father's face made her bite her tongue and keep these thoughts to herself. She nodded and added quietly into the dim light of the carriage, "Yes, it's exciting papa."

Her father smiled, a little more at ease that she had acknowledged excitement at seeing her suitor; in fact he was more at ease that she was speaking to him again. Belle was his world and all he wanted was her happiness, but he seemed no more able to give it to her than she was able to stop reading. He looked outside the window as Belle opened her book and began to read again. The sun had fully vanished and it was good and dark outside. The shadows of the trees passed by the window as the black masses fought against the flickering of the lamp inside the carriage. All was quiet as Belle and her father slipped back into silence, lost to their own thoughts.

Three things happened in the next moment simultaneously. A shot echoed through the glen, the horses attached to their carriage issued a loud whinny before prancing backwards, and with a jolt the carriage itself came to a halt. There was shouting as another shot went off and the carriage continued to shake as the horses pranced in fear. Belle dropped her book with a thump and reached for her father, clutching his hand. "P-papa…" she whispered, looking for signs of movement outside. The door to the carriage flew open and revealed two men, guns aimed at the father and daughter. Belle's father positioned himself in front of her as one of the ruffians broke the silence. "Oi, outta the carriage mate," he jerked his head to the side and both men took a step back to allow their victims room to follow orders. Moe stepped out first, planting his feet firmly on the ground in front of the carriage steps, not permitting Belle any further out into the open.

Macleane moved his gun to the side, motioning for Moe to move as well, "A little further. Be a gent and let the lady out as well."

Moe glanced at Belle before moving a step to the left, so far the highway men hadn't asked for anything unreasonable and he would indulge their harmless requests if it meant he and his daughter got out of this alive.

Plunkett looked up and offered his hand out to Belle as she stepped down, it was dark and she was small, he would hate to have her fall because Macleane was being choosy. Belle couldn't hide the shock on her face as the criminal offered her a hand, she glanced at her father but he was occupied with the other man in a stare down that seemed to be going nowhere. Belle looked back to the criminal's hand and took it hesitantly, using her free hand to lift her dress out of the way of her feet, she stepped down onto the ground beside her father.

"M'lady." Plunkett nodded to her before releasing her hand, glad to see she curtsied ever so slightly before clasping her hands in front of her. She didn't wipe them on her skirts as if to rid herself of his touch and he couldn't help but feel oddly touched by the gesture.

"Look, just tell us what you want…" Moe started but he was cut off by the first man.

"Any coin you have, hand it over," he took a burlap sack out of his belt and switched places with Plunkett. Once in front of Belle, Macleane opened the sack, letting the gun aim off to the side. "As for the lady, all the baubles in the sack."

Belle looked to her father and the criminal that had helped her out of the carriage, then back to the man in front of her with the sack. She didn't move to take off her jewelry but instead just looked at the both of them. Heart pounding in her chest, she tried to figure out a plan of action. 'Be brave, Belle. Be brave,' she told herself as she reached shaky hands up to her ears to unclip the chandelier sapphires from her lobes. She put them both in one hand and dropped them into the sack with a small clink.

"Good. Very good." Macleane licked his lips under the material of the mask, his mouth suddenly dry at the sight of the size of those stones around her neck. "And the necklace M'lady."

Belle willed her hands to be steady as she slowly reached up and undid the clasp on her necklace. She pulled it off and let it pool in her palm, looking at both the men before letting the trinket drop in after her earrings. Plunkett's mouth ran dry as well but for a reason other than the size of her jewelry. He forced his attention back on the girl's father, the old man was shaking like a leaf and the more nervous a person was, the more likely they were to do something stupid. "Hurry up," he said to Macleane as he adjusted his grip on the gun.

Belle saw the men exchange glances and she seized her chance. Quietly she reached down and slipped her mother's bracelet off of her wrist and dropped it between the valley of her breasts, allowing the metal to settle in her bodice. She kept her breathing steady and dropped her hands quickly, as if to appear to not have moved at all. However she wasn't quick enough and Macleane saw what she had done.

"What was that?" he raised an eyebrow at her but shook his head after a slight pause. "No matter, no matter. Whatever it is, hand it over. Everything goes in the sack."

Belle shook her head, 'Be brave, Belle. Be brave.' That bracelet was small, it would hardly bring them any coin and she was not about to lose the one thing she had of her departed mother. "I-I didn't do anything," she swallowed and held her head high. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Macleane had had enough. They had spent far too long on this job already and whatever she was trying to hide had to be valuable or she wouldn't challenge a highway man. Either that, or she was incredibly stupid. "Now lassie let's not be rash. Hand it over and we will be on our way. Surely a trinket isn't worth your life?" After Belle gave another firm shake of her head, Macleane reached forward and delved his hand down her bodice, going for whatever she was hiding in an act of desperation.

Plunkett's eyes became wide as he watched his partner reach down the dress of the young thing. He pointed the gun at the ground and hollered, "OI! Mate, leave it-…"

Belle let out a yelp as his cold hand touched her skin, going for the one thing she held most dear. Without so much as a second thought she scrunched up her face, made a fist, pulled her elbow back and punched Macleane as hard as she could in the middle of his face. Macleane fell to the ground with a thud, dropping his gun and sack to make sure the cloth stayed in place around his face.

"Belle!" Moe shouted, but made no move to reach for her, too shocked to do much more than gape.

"You are NOT allowed to put your hands on me sir!" Belle said breathlessly as her whole body seemed to vibrate with the adrenaline rush that she just experienced. Her chest heaved beneath her bodice as she felt the bracelet slip further down her corset.

Plunkett holstered his gun, knowing he wasn't going to be using it at this point in the game. He looked from Macleane, flat on his back, to the beauty standing in front of the carriage, looking ready to hit something else. He pocketed the gold from the old man and hoisted his friend up. Macleane scrambled to his feet with his help, trying to muster any dignity he had left. "She-! Sh-she!," he looked at Belle with complete shock mixed with mortification. Plunkett shoved him in the direction of the horses and looked back to Belle. She was so dainty, but what a punch! He chuckled underneath the cloth and shook his head. Hearing Macleane riding off, he pulled himself up onto his own mare and gave a small bow with an extending of his arm, "It's been a pleasure, M'lady." He clicked his tongue and the animal galloped off quickly catching up with his partner in crime.

Belle's heart hammered in her chest as her father wrapped his arms around her, bellowing about authorities and injustices and the nerve of ruffians. She mumbled in response as he asked about her well being and went to check on the unconscious driver towards the front of the carriage. She clutched her hand to her stomach and winced as the pain began to set into her knuckles. A glint of silver from the grass caught her eye as she bent and retrieved the pistol dropped by the highway man whose nose had probably seen better days. She quickly placed it in her basket on the inside of the carriage before her father could see and try and take it. She looked around, searching the woods of any sign of the two men but the dim light of the carriage lamp didn't allow for much sight as she soon gave up the search and went to help her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so here is chapter two. Still kind of nervous about this whole thing and finally getting my story out there. Hopefully I will link my tumblr to this soon but that is a problem for another day.
> 
> Once again I do not own anything Once Upon a Time Related or anything related to the genius that is Plunkett and Macleane. Enjoy and review if you wish!
> 
> (I also have a FanFiction Account so if some of you have seen this before then you probably have! It is not stolen do not fear! This is "Thatlassiegotglassed". I got an account here as well because some of my readers do not have FF. Thanks guys!)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Plunkett chucked the sack of Belle's jewelry and the smaller leather pouch of the old man's gold on the bed in the corner of the room as Macleane came in the door behind him. The second man had his head tilted back and a blood soaked cloth pressed to it as he made his way to the closest chair, mumbling complaints all the way. The ride home had been awful, each bounce of the horse causing Macleane to issue a string of curses as he rode blind, his eyes facing the stars in an effort to stop the blood flow. The house was dark and the first thing Plunkett did was stroll to the table his partner was seated at and light a small oil lamp, twisting the knob to make the flame as small as possible while still allowing for optimal sight. Lamp oil wasn't free and every extra purchase added up when it came to their nest egg for the America's. Macleane hit the table with a fist, shaking the lamp, as he tried to remove the cloth and found that it was still bleeding and his nose exploded in pain.

Plunkett didn't so much as jump but just chuckled. His friend looked ridiculous. He took off his jacket and holster, setting them on the table by the lamp before turning, "Here, let me see."

Macleane removed his hand slowly as Plunkett reached up to take the cloth from him. "Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah. Easy!" He hissed again and kept his head back as his friend assessed the situation.

"Oh hush it." Plunkett chuckled as he looked it over. He was not a doctor so he wasn't sure if his nose was broken or not; they would know if it healed crooked that was for sure. He picked up a tattered shirt from the floor and took the end of the sleeve tightly in his teeth, ripping it apart at the seams with multiple short jerks. He balled it up in his hand and pressed it to Macleane's nose, "Here, hold this." As the other man took it from him he went over to the small bucket of water on the second wooden table in the corner of the room. Ripping a smaller strip of cloth, he dipped it in the water and rung it out. He then bent and picked up a small, latched leather bound box and put it in the crook of his arm. Macleane mumbled as if his face were pressed lightly into a pillow once Plunkett was back at his side, "Ruddy wench. Who the hell does she think she is?"

Plunkett removed the second bloody cloth and tossed it on the table beside the box after undoing the latches. "Well your hands did wonder to somewhere they shouldn't have been mate." He chuckled hard enough that he bit his lower lip in an effort to stop before he wounded the beaten man's ego further.

"What are you talking about? I didn't even get to cop a feel before her fist collided with my face!" He winced again as Plunkett wiped most of the blood away from his nostrils so he could manage a better look. "Besides," Macleane huffed, "her tits were too small anyway."

Laughing again Plunkett, grabbed a bottle from the leather box and dabbed a gel onto a clean bit of cloth. "Her tits were fine mate, you're just scorned. Keep ye' head back and be still, ya tosser."

As he dabbed the herb infused gel onto Macleane's nostrils he thought back to the woman they had just robbed. Her father had yelled 'Belle' at her when she punched Macleane, so that must have been her name. Belle. Well that certainly rolled off the tongue nicely didn't it? Belle. She hadn't cried, begged them to stop and repent, or hidden behind her father. How very strange now that he thought about it. Instead, she assaulted one of them. He recalled the vision of her breathless excitement, borderline rage, after she punched his partner, how her curls flared around her, how her chest moved as she breathed quickly and deep, trying to keep her composure. His mind focused on that part in particular for an extra few seconds and his statement remained true. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her breasts, tits was no word to describe a woman like that, they were quite nice actually. He shook his head and brought himself back to the present. The blood had finally stopped and he dropped a pinch of powder into a cup of water before handing it to Macleane. "Drink this," he mumbled as he closed the box and latched it after piling up the bloody cloths to be discarded later.

Macleane drank it down before standing slowly and going to the looking glass next to the door and inspecting it. His pathetic nose was red, slightly swollen and still very painful. Resisting the urge to touch it, he asked, "Do you think it's broken?"

Plunkett nodded, "Aye, you'll be horribly disfigured. Rebecca will never want to lay eyes on you again. She'll leave you for a good lookin' bloke and no lass around will bed you without a large amount of coin." He ducked as his friend threw the rag he was holding at his head and then smirked when the quick movement caused him to wince. Served the pup right. He walked over to the small bed in the corner and sat down, one leg bent towards him, while the other dangled on the floor for balance.

"What did she have anyway?" He asked, grabbing the burlap sack. He dumped the jewelry onto the mattress and pulled out a small eyeglass to inspect the individual gems. He worked slowly and quietly, checking the cut, the weight of them in his hand and the clarity of the stone as well as he could in the dim lamp light. They were all real. Why was he not surprised?

"What are you talking about?" Macleane finished inspecting his nose in the mirror and turned around, tossing his coat over the back of the chair.

"Down her dress. What did she have that you were after?" He looked up from his work to the other man.

"Oh," Macleane sat back down. "She took it off her wrist, so I am guessing it was a bracelet." He paused and poured a small glass of liquor and sighed. "Imagine it Plunkett, whatever it was had to be bloody valuable. Who takes on a Highwayman for a trinket?"

Plunkett nodded. Macleane might have been onto something. The girl had a strong stomach that was for sure. But the point was whatever she had hidden was gone now and there was none sense in both of them mourning its loss. He looked back down to the items in his lap. The necklace was heavy; she was so small, he wondered how it hadn't caused her to fall over. He smiled to himself as he thought again about how the dainty thing had actually knocked Macleane on his arse. He pooled the trinket in his palm and put it back inside the sack. It had looked lovely perched atop her smooth chest; almost a pity they had to sell them. Almost. He shook his head and deposited both bags in the large trunk at the foot of the bed. It was best to forget about her, odds were he would never see her again.

***

A week later Plunkett had accompanied Macleane to the weekly card game at Rochester's. Plunkett was leaning against the wall watching the game, although it wasn't a game at all, more like a slaughter. Macleane was sweating chips and wasn't going to last much longer. As much as he liked to think he could play with the big boys, his partner was an amateur. Macleane tossed the cards into the middle of the table, folding yet once again; that was the last of his pile of coin and he was out for the night. If he asked for anymore to buy back in, Plunkett would have the strong urge to break his nose all over again.

As a matter of fact, Macleane's face had healed rather nicely. There was still bruising around the insides of his eyes but the swelling had all but vanished. Not broken per say but perhaps there had been a fracture because it failed to be perfectly symmetrical with the rest of his face. As bad as it sounded, Plunkett couldn't help but be glad that the remnants of his friends' injury would remain, for every time he looked at Macleane's nose he was reminded of the dainty powerhouse named Belle and he couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself.

Plunkett smoothed his dark brown hair back from his face and tied it in a small knot at the nape of his neck. Pulling out his pipe to prepare for the ride home he glanced up as Rochester stood, throwing his beloved bull dogs a piece of chocolate. Back when he owned his apothecary he know enough that certain types of animals had reactions to the human treat. Those poor little bastards would probably be dead before the month was out. But such were the ways of their dear flamboyant friend. Rochester was most easily the most decorated man in London. Dressing like he belonged with the gypsies instead of the royals, he often waltzed in and out of the most prestigious of parties draped in purples and pastels. A small metal stud with a heart perched at the end pierced the edge of his eyebrow, setting off just how different he was from those around him.

"Good to see you again my man, as always." Rochester added at the end with a smirk and a waggle of his eyebrows as he approached Plunkett with Macleane at his heels.

Plunkett shook his head but smiled anyway. Rochester's preference in bed wasn't hard to guess but somehow the man never failed to put a smile on his face.

"You will be attending the ball tomorrow, gentlemen?" He looked between them both, pausing as he put more weight on his jewel encrusted cane. "Supposed the party of the year. Mousier Moe French is holding a masquerade in honor of his daughter's engagement."

Plunkett paused. Moe French? Why did that name sound so familiar? Macleane answered after a wide smile spread across his face, "Party of the year you say?" He paused and looked at his friend. "Could be fun, wouldn't you say Plunkett?"

"Oh yes. Loads." Plunkett forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Even though another party was destined to bring them more "clients", it also meant another night of being Macleane's lackey. Of being the servant while his partner played the gentleman. Not that he really minded but the charade often become tiring after a night of fetching Macleane more drink. Macleane was no more a gentleman than he was and yet he was stuck playing the sidekick. What would make tomorrow night any different?

***

The next night both men arrived at the party fashionably late with Rochester at their side. Plunkett slipped on the simple black masquerade mask that Rochester handed him and said a silent prayer of thanks that it was not as glittery or as purple as the man's was himself. After making sure his hair was tied back and wouldn't get in the way of the mask, Plunkett scanned the room.

"What's the plan?" Macleane leaned over after putting on his own mask and whispered to Plunkett as they were announced upon walking through the grand doors.

"Same as always I figure. You prance around entertaining the most expensive tossers in the room while I lurk in silence trying to find out information strictly through eavesdropping." Plunkett smirked and held up a hand, waggling his fingers. "With maybe a little pick pocketing on the side"

Macleane nodded and adjusted his waist coat, putting his expensive looking cane a step in front of him. "Meet me in an hour back here.

As his partner drifted off, Plunkett made his way along the outside of the room. He observed the nobles as they laughed and drank away the early hours of the night. The women decorated in jewels and dresses that could house a small number of children, while the men wore pants a bit too tight and wigs more than a tad too large. Fashion, for what it was worth, was something that Plunkett never understood. One of the many reasons he had concluded that he was "uncivilized".

He caught snippets of conversation here and pieced it together with other bits from there, but nothing truly useful popped up as he made his first lap around the room without being noticed. As he came back to the door, he stopped as he set eyes on her. She was small. Dainty yet well rounded. The silk of her golden dress poured over her shoulders and waist like a second skin, before falling around her hips like a waterfall. Thin gold bangles decorated each wrist by the dozens, while golden chandelier earrings peaked out from her chestnut curls. Her neck however was bare, but Plunkett hardly thought that was a bad thing. The smooth expanse of flesh seemed offered to the room as a gift so coveted, no one was allowed to touch. It was the woman that had punched Macleane. Belle. It had to be, Plunkett was sure of it.

"May I help you?" Belle closed her golden fan gently as she broke away from the crowd to address the man that was silently gawking at her. "Sir?" She prodded again as he didn't reply.

Plunkett snapped out of his trance at the sound of her voice and tried to incoherently piece together a sentence but it was as if his brain had forgotten how to function and had so left him to look like a fool. He sighed giving up on anything articulate and offered an apology instead.

Belle didn't make fun of him in the least but instead blushed gently beneath her ornate mask. Her blue eyes glittered more than the gems on the mask ever could and Plunkett was awestruck. Glancing over her shoulder, she tensed and gave a face wrought with worry before grabbing Plunkett by the hand and hauling him through the crowd onto the middle of the dance floor. She spun around and their hands fell into place. "Dance with me." It was a statement, not a question Plunkett noted and knew in that moment he was likely to do whatever she commanded. She paused, waiting for his nod before she stepped back as he stepped forward beginning their graceful waltz.

After a moment's pause, checking to make sure whoever she had spotted moments before was no longer around; she looked up at his face and gave a small smile. "Thank you. I-I needed out-…" She took a breath and tried again. "I'm Belle."

Plunkett almost responded with 'I know' but bit his tongue, "William."

"Well then, it's nice to meet you William." She smiled again as he twirled her out and pulled her back in.

Once she was pressed against the front of his body, he smirked gently and nodded, "Likewise."

Belle raised an eyebrow, catching on quickly after a moment's pause. "We've never met and this is not my first ball. So one can see how that would be odd. What is your last name?"

Plunkett chuckled and shook his head. Clever girl did not waste any time. "Are you always this forward?"

"Every day of the week and twice on the Sabbath." Belle nodded without a moment's hesitation. "Does that make me wicked?"

'Oh you definitely are something.' Plunkett thought and he changed their direction, realizing that for the first time the fact that he could dance better than Macleane was paying off. "Not at all my lady," he said with a reassuring smile.

"So I'll ask again, what is your full name?"

She was relentless. And something inside Plunkett knew this was important. From these few moments of conversation he knew Belle was not a maiden to be forgotten. She was not one to take society lying on her back and though she intrigued him, he could almost guarantee her personality gave her hell inside the aristocratic crowds. She was trouble; and if Plunkett had any sense at all he knew he should have released her and strolled out of the ballroom. But instead he pulled her close abruptly. She let out a small yip as the fronts of their bodies were pressed against one another tight enough that if she inhaled deeply, her chest pressed against his. He placed a hand on the small of her back and dipped her down slowly, letting her curls cascade almost to the marble floor. Upon pulling her back up he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Perhaps another time."

Belle looked him in the eyes, breath and words failing her at the moment as he lowered her towards the floor with such strength that somehow she knew he would never drop her. He denied her second attempt at discovering his true name and she was honestly baffled. Who was he?

"Plunkett!"

Belle watched as his eyes widened behind his mask and she pieced the two together with a smirk of her own. Plunkett saw her full, ruby lips tilt up with realization as Macleane gave away the answer to her question. She had won; they both knew it. Macleane moved through the crowd slowly and when he eventually reached them Plunkett released Belle slowly, his hands sliding along the fabric of her bodice, memorizing the feel of her in his arms.

"We need to leave, Rebecca-…" He paused, seeing Belle and knowing he should not speak more information than absolutely necessary to this new pair of ears.

Plunkett glared at Macleane before returning his gaze to Belle. Before he could open his mouth she nodded, "Thank you for the dance. It was very enjoyable…William Plunkett." She added the last bit with a smirk as she curtsied gracefully in front of him.

Macleane gave him a look that told him to hurry as he turned and made his way back through the crowd; Plunkett would so get him back for this. He took a deep breath and took her hand gently, kissing the back of it. "It's been a pleasure M'lady," he said with a small bow as well, his accent leaking out slightly as she had ruffled his composure.

Belle's heart stopped as she jerked her hand back from his lips and her eyes widened behind her mask. "W-what did you say?" She whispered breathlessly.

Plunkett swallowed hard as it dawned on him what phrase he had repeated. Surely she didn't know who he was, she wasn't that observant; no one was that observant surely. Belle reached up and grabbed the edge of his mask sliding from his face as she paused, oblivious to everyone around them.

"It's you…" she said almost inaudibly.

Plunkett panicked as Macleane yelled for him again. Snatching the mask out of her hands, he slid it back on his face and all but ran out of the ballroom. She knew. She was too intelligent for her own good and when that was mixed with his carelessness of the evening it had resulted in his doom. She knew and Macleane was going to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:I do not own Once Upon a Time or the genius that is Plunkett and Macleane. This chapter is longer than the rest and hopefully they will be about this length from now on. I've reread it a million times and never change anything but I am nervous about this one for some reason. If you have strong opinions let me know haha. Now on with the show.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Belle lay naked stretched across the silk sheets of a four poster bed. Her hair fanned out among the large amount of pillows as a cool breeze rolled in gently from an open window. Goosebumps prickled throughout her skin but she couldn't tell if it was from the window or the attentions of the man between her knees. Her chest fell in deep waves as she tried to return her breathing to a state of normalcy. Large hands, rough from years of hard work, but gentle against her smooth skin, caressed her flesh, squeezing her greedily in places that made her back arch ever so slightly. Passion ignited within her body even though she was already well sated from the evening's activities.

"T-thank you." She breathed with a smile as the lips of her experienced lover trailed along her stomach, up her breasts, over her collar bone and hovered against her lips, leaving just enough space to speak.

"Always a pleasure M'lady," a deep voice said into the dark room. Belle looked up at the face hovering right above hers and starred into the eyes of William Plunkett.

Belle's eyes flew open and she sat straight up in bed. Breathing quickly and glancing around the dark room in an almost frantic panic. She reached shaky hands to her night stand and opened up the bedside drawer, grabbing the matches and quickly striking one; she lit the candle on the table. Soft shadows filled the room as she looked around and realized she was once again alone in her bed.

This was the third dream that week. This had to stop. Each time she woke up in a light sweat, breathless and aching from things that had never happened. Never would happen either for that matter. But just because something would never happen, didn't mean it was bad to dream about it, right? She heard her open window give a small creek and she was pulled from her thoughts.

Sliding out of the covers she padded quietly across the cold hardwood floor and leaned out the window sill, breathing in the refreshing air of the night. Her father, as well as the maid, always scolded her for leaving it open, saying, 'It's dangerous for a young maiden to leave the window open. It is asking for trouble.' But Belle never saw the harm. The air was cool and the moonlight that poured in always gave her the fairytale feeling of her books.

She placed her hands on the cool edge of the sill and looked out onto the hilly land of their plantation right on the outskirts of the city. The world out there was bathed in dark blues and ebonies as the silvery light played along the dewy grass and the shadows of the trees cast by the forest beyond. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she tried to recover from her very vivid dream. Three nights had passed since her waltz with Plunkett and there seemed to not be a moment in which he didn't fill her thoughts. She was growing increasingly annoyed with the fact because there was nothing she could do to remedy it. William Plunkett was not a gentleman. He was not involved in their circle; he had no fortune and was not the heir to anything most likely. If he was, the ladies of the town would have had their corsets in a twist knowing that there was such a nobleman with a face like that. A face that had more than likely caused women to lift their skirts for decades; with its prominent cheek bones and firm jaw line, a face like that managed to be soft without you ever mistaking it for being feminine. 'Stop it Belle.' She thought and she gave her head a firm shake, sending her curls dancing around her head.

However noteworthy they may have been, his looks were not what impressed her. The eyes, definitely the eyes are what set him apart in her mind. The velvety brown of his irises intrigued her even from behind his mask that night of the robbery as well as the night of the masquerade. There was weight to his gaze; a weight that had seen hard times, knew more knowledge than that of the average man and had seen things, perhaps even done things, to place certain pain and longing in the depths of one's soul. Perhaps the most important of all for Belle was that his eyes held intelligence and he was not afraid to use it.

The way he stared at her was not as if he was a wolf devouring the thoughts of her naked beneath his snarling jowls. No, that wasn't it at all. The way he stared at her was the way a man looked as if he had never seen the sea. As if he were looking at the shore for the first time and was simply marveling at the beauty and silently commending God on a job well done. Those eyes held no hidden agenda or wicked desires and that was enough to make Belle want to bow to his every whim. After a life time of chasing away marriage proposals by nothing more than money hungry animals that lusted after her body instead of her mind, the way Plunkett looked at her was a refreshing change of pace.

She moved to the fire place and tossed some kindling in the bottom, before assembling a few small pieces of wood in the center of the hearth. She knew how to light her own fires and would deal with her maid's repercussions in the morning. As she knelt in the soot and lit the match, lightly blowing on the embers so they would catch, she tried to force her thoughts away from Plunkett and his partner that she had yet to officially name. If they made a living as two dangerous highwaymen, why were they at her father's ball? How did they get invitations? Plunkett's partner had mentioned needing to go see a 'Rebecca'; could this be Lady Rebecca Gibson? Surely not.

Settling in the chair Belle pulled a shawl around her shoulders and tucked her feet into the edge of her linen night gown as she curled up to the crackling of the fire. Her mind raced with these questions and more as she closed her eyes and drifted back into another dream, identical to the one from before.

Belle woke with the sunrise after a restless night. She slid her fingertips along the spines of the old books on her shelves slowly in almost a therapeutic way. She was too wound to read and yet she did not want to be left alone with her thoughts for they had proved to be otherwise…distracting. Her father had yet to make an appearance this morning and the maid was preoccupied with the duties around the house. Belle was alone. But that was pretty normal actually. She tip toed to the door and silently slid a hard backed chair under the door handle. Wiggling the handle she made sure the door was jammed well before walking back over to her bed and kneeling on the floor.

Tucking the skirt of her linen night gown out of the way she quietly pried up a loose floorboard, a secret from everyone in the house, and took out her mother's lock box. After unlocking it she rifled through the jewelry and yellowed paper before finding what she was looking for. Pulling a cloth wrapped bundle out of the box, she carefully unwrapped it; listening for movement on the stairs before standing up and placing Macleane's gun on her bedspread. The metal was perfect; obviously it was a well cared for object. The silver glinted in the sunlight coming though her window and she carefully picked it up running it through her hands, side to side, examining each piece.

Belle had never been around guns, let alone held one with her own hands. It was beautiful and intriguing. After Plunkett's partner had dropped it the night of the robbery she had all but coveted the weapon. It made her feel dangerous, like a true adventurer right out of one of her books. Alright maybe not like a true adventurer but she felt it was as close as she would ever come. It couldn't be very complicated to operate could it? She was bright and loads of men with half her intelligence used guns every day. So how did it work?

Walking into the middle of her room, she lifted the gun and aimed at the wall. There seemed to be a small lever towards the top by her thumb; gently, she pulled it back and it issued a small click. Belle's heart was fluttering in her throat. Excitement coursed through her veins at the knowledge that she must have done something right for the mechanisms inside the object to move into place. She mimicked how she had seen a gun held and extended her arm. Her index finger slid naturally against a small piece of metal inside a loop underneath the gun and somehow she knew the last step was to squeeze.

Belle jumped almost ten feet as a stern knock came at her door. She hurried to the box and placed the gun back inside, pushing everything underneath the floor before replacing the floor board. Belle turned around and tried to look innocent as she removed the chair from the door and opened it.

"Still not dressed at this time of day! Lady Belle, what will I do with you?" Alice, her maid, said with a shake of her head as she strolled past Belle and into the room. She straightened the bed clothes and fluffed the pillows. "Best hurry and get dressed, M'lady. You have a visitor." She said with a knowing smile.

A visitor? Belle's mind wondered back to her highwayman Plunkett. It couldn't be him, it just couldn't be. But she could think of no one else who would come calling out of the blue. She walked to her dresser and pulled out her simple light blue dress and laced up her bodice as best she could without any help. Whoever it was would have to deal with her in her comfortable clothes; she quickly braided her hair and tied a blue ribbon in it before walking down the stairs. Her visitor was standing in the foyer and Belle let out a breath, blowing her bangs out of her face in frustration; it was most certainly not Plunkett.

"Bonjour Gaston." She said as she reached the bottom step.

Gaston turned around and gave her what she could only assume was his million dollar smile. He reached a large hand up and smoothed back his jet black hair, which was already tied at the nape of his neck, more out of habit than necessity. He was a good foot taller than she and he dipped down to kiss her in hello.

Belle ducked out of the way and offered him the back of her hand instead; it was the best he was going to get. His smile faltered to a light glare for a fraction of a second before it returned and he took her hand, kissing it. Although it was quick, Belle caught the glare. Gaston had a short temper and was not one that took a 'no' very well. A dangerous combination.

"Belle. You seem surprised." His voice boomed in the small foyer as if he was trying to impress people that were not there and Belle fought the urge to wipe the back of her hand on her dress.

"You always surprise me Gaston." She said and it was not a lie. Lots of things about the man did in fact surprise her. The size of his ego, his amazingly little intelligence, his theory on how he was God's gift to the women of the world, see, full of surprises.

"Well I have one more up my sleeve," he smirked. "Could we go into the drawing room?"

Belle nodded and walked in front of him, leading them into the drawing room. Her stomach was in knots as she leaned against the desk and crossed her arms under her breasts. Why was he here? Gaston sat in the leather chair like he was in his own home. He plopped his dusty boots up on the desk and put his hands behind his head, looking her up and down like she was a piece of meat.

"You look lovely Belle." He smirked as his eyes paused on her chest. "Today is your lucky day."

Belle bit her lip and tried to keep the anger out of her voice, "What do you want Gaston?" She moved to the side, away from his boots so as to keep the mud from getting on her dress.

"So eager; A perfect trait for my little wife to have." His voice was so natural that it took her a moment to register what he had just said.

"Excuse me?" Belle stood and put her hands on her hips, unable to believe that he would be so bold.

Gaston stood up and walked towards her, his boots making heavy footsteps on the wood floors, he was large and intimidating and he knew it. She backed up until her back bumped up against the edge of the desk and she felt like a small bird, trapped in the corner by a very large animal.

"You heard me. Marry me Belle."

It wasn't a question and Belle knew that. It was a command. Her heart sped and it was not from excitement. She tried to get around him but he was too large and the desk blocked her escape. "You'll have to talk to my father…"

Gaston cut her off and leaned into her body, "Don't worry, I already took care of that and he said it was a wonderful idea." He leaned his face into hers, placing a hand on the desk on either side of her body, "Our sons will be beautiful and just like me. Imagine it Belle. You'll be set for life. Never wanting for anything."

Sons? Belle felt like she was going to throw up. She turned her face away from his to avoid any more contact with him. Never wanting for anything? Except freedom, and love and adventure and countless other things that Belle wanted most in the world. This couldn't be happening. How could her father agree to this? Gaston could have probably waved his money and charm in front of all of Parliament if he had to, he wasn't used to being told no and Belle was more than happy to be the first. She put her hand on his chest gently, trying to make it feel like a caress, when all she really wanted to do was punch him in the face.

"Gaston, I'm flattered." She said gently as she walked forward making him walk back away from the desk. He smirked and let her maneuver him. "What girl wouldn't be? I must be so lucky." Her voice was slightly sarcastic as the words coming from her lips felt like poison to her. His smirk though showed that he believed everything she was saying. "But you see the thing is, when it comes to me being your wife…" she paused as they stopped in front of the open door. "Hell would sooner freeze over."

She shoved him with as much force as she could muster and when paired with how unprepared he was to be shoved, he tumbled out the drawing room door and onto the foyer floor. Belle slammed the door hard and slid the latch into place, locking herself inside the drawing room. She let out a small yip and Gaston banged his fist against the door once he had recovered, making the doorframe shake.

"How dare you! Open this door Belle! Open. This. Door." With each separate word, his fist collided with the wood and Belle looked around the room as to what to do next. She hurried to the coat rack and slipped her cloak off of the hook and threw it around her shoulders. Gaston continued to pound as she ran to the window and slid it open. He was making so much racket that there was no way he heard her do it, she would be well on her way into town before he even knew she had left the house. The drop to the ground was a little higher than Belle remembered but she took her chances, letting out a breath and jumping. Landing on her knees, she stood quickly and wiped the mud from her dress before hurrying down the gravel drive. She didn't know where she was going but if she hurried she could make it somewhere before night fell. And as far as she was concerned, anywhere was better than here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I do not own Once Upon a Time or Plunkett and Macleane.
> 
> It is time for a Belle centered chapter don't you think? I thought so. Enjoy. Feel free to review, they help Dearies.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Plunkett finished the beer in his glass before setting it down and tossing the bartender a coin. It was late and he was tired. Macleane was nowhere to be seen and his best guess was that his partner had wondered upstairs for a game of cards. The other option was that he had stumbled into the local whore house but Macleane's habit of bedding random bar wenches had subsided since his infatuation with Lady Rebecca had happened. Good for him, everyone needed someone. Everyone except Plunkett. He was perfectly fine on his own, or so he thought.

The bar tonight was noisy. Music played in the corner as drunken men tossed coins to the musicians while women lost glasses of good judgment as they gained glasses of alcohol from the ravenous men around the room. The good booze was all that kept Plunkett in his chair and he had just about had his fill. He turned his chain link bracelet around his wrist and watched the lights from the lamps in the room reflect off the metallic surface. With a sigh, he scooted his chair back with his mind on finding Macleane and dragging him home. His card game be damned, they needed to rest. After not having a decent robbery in a few nights, their allotted money for their fake extravagant lifestyle was running low.

"I'm looking for William Plunkett."

He snapped his head to the center of the room as he heard a quiet voice ask for him from somewhere in the crowd.

"Oh you don't know him? That's alright, thank you." There was a pause. "Yes, Plunkett. I am looking for a William Plunkett."

There was no mistaking it now. He had heard someone asking for him. Every time someone came looking for him it meant trouble but he had never heard his name spoken in a tone such as that. The crowd parted as he moved slowly towards the voice and he stopped short when he saw her. Surely he wasn't that drunk, but it couldn't be her, could it? Belle stood at the bar, looking as out of place as a rose in a patch of weeds. Her dress was plain but well made, looking soft to the touch. Her cloak was a mixture of greens and blues; she reached dainty hands up and lowered her hood, revealing chestnut curls that looked even softer than her dress. She was really here. And she was looking for him? What the hell was happening?

"Well I don't know a Plunkett but why don't you come home with me?" said a burly man who appeared to have spilled more beer on his clothes than had actually gotten into his mouth. His dirty hands pulled Belle towards him as she tried to smack his arm from around her waist.

Plunkett had had enough. She would never make it out of this place unless he intervened. He walked up to the man and cleared his throat; unclipping his holster, he shoved the barrel of his pistol into the man's side. "Let the lady go." He said firmly.

"W-William." Belle said breathlessly as she looked at him. He glanced at her and couldn't help but smile. Her cloak made her eyes the purest of blue and her face shown with such relief and happiness at his presence he couldn't help but feel a slight boost in his ego.

"Hello sweetheart. I've been looking everywhere for you." He smiled and holstered the pistol as the man let go of Belle quickly. They had attracted a small audience and if they hoped to get out of here safely, Plunkett had to make every drunken lad in the building believe that Belle was spoken for.

" Sweetheart?" Belle raised an eyebrow and stepped away from the dirty man at the bar and gave Plunkett a questioning look. "Look. I think I made a mistake coming to find you. I didn't mean for you to think-…" She was cut off midsentence as Plunkett pulled her flush against his chest and crushed his lips against hers. He wasn't greedy and kept his hold on her gentle and his kiss as chaste as possible without giving away their façade. She placed her hands on his chest gently and moved closer as a deep cheer of approval followed their fake public display of affection. Her face flushed with embarrassment and Plunkett pulled back just enough to whisper against her lips.

"Don't say another word. Follow me." It was not a request and he grabbed her hand and dragged her across the room and out the back door of the bar. It paralleled what she had done to him at the ball, only this time he was in charge and she was at a loss for words. He pushed the door open so forcefully it banged against the brick of the building. Belle stumbled on the cobble stone and steadied herself before pushing away from him.

"You….you kissed-..how dare you." Belle sputtered out as the door closed behind them and the noise from the bar faded, leaving them in the silence of the alley. She had had enough of men assuming they could have whatever they wanted from her. Twice in one day was more than enough and she was fed up. She was embarrassed, tired and as she straightened her cloak she glared at her unconventional rescuer.

"How dare I? How…dare…I?" Plunkett looked at her wide eyed, his hands to his chest in disbelief before dropping them to his sides. "I just saved you from a mauling. You stupid girl. What on Earth were you doing?"

"I was looking for you!" Belle yelled, standing her ground. She hated when anyone called her that. She was more than just a 'girl'.

Plunkett stopped short at that. Her blue eyes were fiery as she raised her voice to him and this version of the prim and proper lady she was supposed to be surprised him greatly. She was looking for him, he had gathered that, but hearing her say it made it more real. "Why?" he said quietly in disbelief.

Belle clasped her hands in front of her and looked down at her feet. "I don't know…" she whispered gently to the ground.

The silence fell between them like a heavy brick as she continued to look at the ground and he looked at her until the quiet grew almost too much for him to bear. He adjusted his vest and started to walk down the alley, "Come on. I'll take you home."

"No Please! Don't." She looked up at that and hurried after him, almost colliding with his back as he turned to her abruptly.

What did she want from him? He had thought of nothing else but her ever since the ball. Twice she had challenged him, not flinched; she was intriguing with a cleverness that equaled her beauty and Plunkett couldn't get the damn woman out of his head. She didn't want to go home, but what the hell was he supposed to do with her?

"I'm taking you home. Where is your horse?" He said firmly as he looked at her.

She looked surprised and said simply, "I walked."

"You what?" he gaped at her words. He knew where the French mansion was and it was quite a distance from town. It must have taken her all day, the sun had set hours ago and she had only just got here. Did she have a death wish? Lord, she was reckless and it only inflamed Plunkett's unrealistic want of her.

"I walked. Look, don't take me back. I can't." Belle thought about Gaston's proposal, if that is what you would call it, about his outrage at her refusal, about her father's absence and lack of protection and she shook her head hard. Her curls tossed around her face and she shut her eyes tightly and refused to cry, hating that she felt so weak. "I can't. I can't"

Plunkett grabbed her upper arms gently and dipped his head so he was looking her directly in the eyes. He didn't know what could possibly rattle her like this but he just wanted it stopped. "Alright. Alright. Look, you can't stay with me. We'll both be killed." He chuckled even though his statement was probably true. She was a noblewoman and he…well he was nothing.

He looked around and released her gently before rubbing his eyes. "I have to take you home." He started and cut her off before she could protest, "But we'll take the long way."

Belle paused before silently nodding in defeat. What had she been thinking? She couldn't stay with him, she didn't even know him. The truth was she hadn't been thinking, she had only wanted to get away, away from that awful, provincial life. He was offering to help her home. She wouldn't have to make the journey alone, she would be safe and her aching feet could rest. He even said they could take the long way, giving her extra time to calm herself and he gained nothing for the extra sentiment. She ought to be grateful to him.

Taking a deep breath she looked at him and said gently, "Alright. Thank you."

"Well then." He sighed with relief as she complied and he offered her his arm, "M'lady."

She took it gently, finally earning him a small smile as they walked towards the front of the bar and to a row of horses patently awaiting their intoxicated masters. He stopped in front of a white mare and Belle marveled at her beauty as Plunkett untied the reigns from the hook. The horse looked at Belle and leaned down, nosing her cloak as if inspecting her. Belle giggled and moved back a step with the force of the horse's head before petting her gently.

"Oi! Nose down, nose down." Plunkett chuckled as he shoved the mare's head gently away from Belle. "She thinks you have food," he winced guiltily and rubbed the back of his neck. "She's been out here awhile."

Belle curtsied to the animal and pet her nose in apology before saying with a smile, "Well I am sorry to disappoint you but I have nothing girl."

Plunkett was staring again. His horse liked no one except him. The beast had dumped Macleane on his arse a few times before taking a liking to Plunkett and had refused affection from anyone else until now. She was so kind and gentle and his horse liked her. It had to be a sign but Plunkett must ignore it if he knew what was good for him. He was taking her home, end of story.

Grabbing the saddle horn, he hoisted himself onto the animal before leaning over and holding out an arm for Belle. "Grab my forearm tightly and jump. You have to trust me and let me do the work or we will both end up face down in the mud."

Belle looked up into his charming smile and nodded. She trusted him. Taking his forearm as instructed she jumped and he hauled her into the saddle with ease to sit behind him. He smiled as she settled in, she was light but her weight against his back was comforting. For a moment he stiffened as he felt her arms timidly wrap around his waist. He forced himself to relax and he clicked his tongue like always and the animal took off down the road.

Her arms tightened around him as the horse started to move and he pulled on the reigns slightly, slowing the animal down. The mare was used to riding at top speed for her master but now they had another passenger.

They made it slowly out of town and Plunkett turned the mare towards a path through the trees. He had promised her the long way and he was going to honor it. When he mentioned taking her home, the uncertainty and fear in her eyes had made his chest tight, but what else could he do? Besides what could make home so horrible? The moon light was filtered by the treetops and they rode in a sort of grey twilight. Remaining in silence for many moments, the only sound other than the clop of their horse hooves was the peep frogs in the distance. Such tranquility deserved whispers, so when Plunkett opened his mouth, his words were soft and he cleared his throat to make them clearer.

"What were you running from?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. It was a bold question but they had to start somewhere.

Belle paused and loosened her grip on him gently, "More like who." Plunkett didn't say anything, willing her to tell her tale on her own if she was comfortable. She continued, "Apparently I've been betrothed. And I was informed of it this morning."

"So you ran?" he chuckled. The thought of marriage surely couldn't be that scary.

"Wouldn't you?" she said with wide eyes. "You can't tell me you enjoy being told what to do with your life."

Plunkett paused. He suddenly felt sorry for chuckling at her. He understood probably better than anyone that everyone should be entitled to run their own life. He hated being told what he was allowed to accomplish due to his station, why should Belle be any different?

She sighed and laid her forehead against his back, "It's not like it matters. What choice do I have?"

Plunkett jerked the reigns up on the mare and came to a complete stop so abruptly that Belle tightened her arms around his waist. He looked over his shoulder at her with a since of rage that he couldn't pin point where it had come from.

"Don't say that. You do have a choice and it does matter. Tell that tosser to piss off. You deserve…you deserve…" He stopped himself midsentence and took a deep breath, his grip on the reigns was so tight his knuckles had turned white and he forced himself to loosen his hold. 'Pull yourself together Plunkett,' he thought as he shook his head and paused for a moment. "I'm sorry." He shook his head not sure what he was apologizing for. "I shouldn't be so bold-…"

But Belle was having none of his apologies and she cut him off, "No. What do I deserve? Tell me, since you seem to know and I don't." All of her life, Belle had been told what she should do, what she couldn't do and what society had planned for her. Someone was finally speaking their mind in front of her, unafraid of the repercussions that her station would punish him for for speaking to her so rashly. "Tell me what I deserve," she said again, this time more gently.

Even in the grey moonlight, while everything else was painted in muted colors, her eyes shown sky blue and Plunkett knew he was slowly losing his resolve to stay away from her. He looked at her and said quietly, "Everything. You deserve everything M'lady."

Belle felt as if she had been slapped. Even though the words were the same, she knew Plunkett's version of 'everything' was vastly different than Gaston's. She was apt at reading people and somehow she knew that his 'everything' was similar to hers, but as she opened her mouth to respond Plunkett drove his heels into the mare and shot off through the woods. He was done talking; he didn't trust himself not to say anything else that would get them into deeper trouble than they already were.

He wove in and out of the trees with an expertise that not many riders had. Taking extra care to make sure low hanging branches didn't scrape Belle; he heeled the horse again and sped even faster. Belle clung tightly to him and closed her eyes, putting her face against his back to protect her eyes from the cool wind of their speed. She had upset him, or rather he had upset himself but she was puzzled as to why. 'Be brave Belle, be brave.' Plunkett wouldn't let her get hurt; his heart was pure, that much she was certain of and not after all the trouble he had went through to help her out. But she had had about as much experience with horses as she had with guns and the speed they travelled at now was unsettling for a first time rider.

The animal breathed harder as Plunkett pushed her on, he needed to think, clear his head but first he had to get Belle home. They broke through the trees as he slowly came to a trot and he turned up the gravel drive of her home. She was clinging to him so tightly, he could feel the heat of her body through his clothes and mixed with the chilly spring night, it sent goose bumps along his flesh. No lights were on in the windows and Plunkett gave a small sigh of relief.

"Perhaps you should take me to the window?" she prompted as they moved closer to the giant front porch staircase. "My room is around back, next the rose trellis on the second floor."

Plunkett nodded and went around the side of the building, it was a good idea. They couldn't be discovered; somehow he didn't think her father would be grateful that he was the one that had brought his only daughter home. He stopped the horse under the window that she had indicated was hers and stood in the stirrups before getting down with a firm plant of his feet. He turned and reached up placing his hands on Belle's waist gently, he could feel the curve of her beneath his hands and he gulped a lump down his throat. He lifted and brought her down to the ground with ease. However, as luck would have it, her foot caught on the saddle and she stumbled against his chest as he caught her as best he could and backed into the house.

She looked up at him breathlessly with a mortified expression as her hands gripped his shirt for balance, "I-I'm sorry. I'm so clumsy."

He chuckled, he couldn't help it. But he wasn't laughing at her, he thought she was adorable, "I'm beginning to see that."

Another silence fell between them as she glanced up at her window before looking back at him, "Can I see you again?" She asked the question without so much as a thought, good judgment be damned, all she knew was that this was not the last time she wanted to lay eyes on her noble highwayman.

Plunkett was almost certain in that moment he had stopped breathing. Those exact words were about to spill from his lips but he knew they were playing with fire at the prospect of her spending any more time with the likes of him. He moved his hands from her waist and shook his head. "I don't think that would be wise."

"And I don't think you're allowed to tell me what to do. Didn't we just have this conversation?" she gave a small smile and tilted her head in question as she sternly raised an eyebrow at him.

He smiled back and shook his head, "Look, M'lady…we can't…"

"Belle. Call me Belle and if you say no well then I just have to come and find you again, now won't I?"

She was relentless. What was he going to do with her? If he refused, he knew she would keep to her word and try to find him, putting herself in danger again. And it was only lucky that he had been at the bar the first time, the chance was greater that next time she wouldn't be so lucky. If he accepted her request…well, that was a problem for another day.

"Fine. Fine." He rubbed his forehead and let his hands fall in defeat. "When?"

Belle smiled in victory, "Don't look so sad." She gave a small laugh and thought about it for a moment before continuing, "My father is leaving on a business trip in two days, it would be perfect." She adjusted her cloak as she moved to the trellis. "You can teach me how to shoot." She added quickly.

He moved to give her a boost onto the trellis before he stumbled and grabbed her wrist at her words. "I can what?" he said with a wide eyed expression.

"You heard me. And after the money that necklace probably brought you…" she leaned forward and pressed their cheeks together her lips whispering against his skin. "You owe me." Belle did not know where her sudden boost of confidence came from but she seemed to have William Plunkett wrapped around her finger at the moment and she was going to seize the opportunity. She left him standing there like a fish out of water and couldn't help herself from giving a small smirk over her shoulder before carefully climbing the trellis to her window.

He watched her as she ascended and knew this woman was going to be the death of him. If her father didn't get a hold of him first, or Macleane for that matter. With the feeling of her arms around his waist from the ride and her scent still clinging to his clothing, he knew that whatever happened, he would go down smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay for some reason this has been my favorite chapter to write so far. I don't know what it is I just like it. Been kind of uninspired lately (Probably due to the lack of Bobby in my life right now haha) so if you guys want to chat or something shoot me a message or check out my tumblr, it would help! Thank you. :)
> 
> I do not own Once Upon a Time or Plunkett and Macleane.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys. Thanks for all the reads and lovely reviews! I kind of want to focus on ONE fic at a time and I am smack dab in the middle of this one AND my RenBelle fic (On Mountaintops in Russia) So if one of them slows down with updates I am really sorry. Ill keep you posted, thanks for your patience. Enjoy! Feel free to review!

Chapter 6:

Two days passed and Plunkett stood in the foyer of his house pacing back and forth, looking at his pocket watch over and over before snapping it shut. He should go. Wait, maybe not. But Belle would be waiting. This is madness. He could do this. No he couldn't. He had been pacing for most of the last 48 hours and Macleane had thought he had gone well and truly insane.

Within the hour he was supposed to meet Belle. If he left now he had plenty of time to make it to her house. So why didn't he go? Because this whole situation was crazy. He shouldn't be allowed to speak to Belle and there she was begging for his attentions and wanting him to teach her to use a weapon. Crazy, it was definitely crazy.

Walking out of the house and throwing the saddle on his mare, his stomach was full of nerves. Macleane was still asleep, and by the time he woke, Plunkett planned on being long gone on his way to the French Manor. If his partner knew of Belle, well, there would be no end to it.

With his stomach in knots over the events to come, he galloped across the glen, his mind racing as quickly as the scenery. This was it. His mind was made up. He was going to see her and there was no going back.

As he came over the hill, the sun slipped above the horizon and painted the trees with touches of gold in the early morning light. The chilly breeze whipped around his face as he slowed the mare down to a trot and approached the back of the manor. Coming to a complete stop by the rose trellis, he looked up to the second story window. It was open, but how was he supposed to get her attention? He dared not yell for her for what if someone was still in the house. After a moment's pause he stood up in the stirrups, trying to get closer to the window; he gave a two toned whistle, low then higher pitched, drawing it out as much as possible.

For a full minute there was nothing, and then Belle came to the window and leaned out, a dazzling smile on her face. Plunkett felt himself smile in return, he just couldn't help it.

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a stern look. "Did you just whistle at me sir?

"No M'lady. Never." He smiled and shook his head, looking as innocent as possible.

Belle rolled her eyes and left the window. She returned with a small rucksack and draped it across her chest before swinging her leg out the window and descending the trellis slowly. Plunkett averted his eyes until she hopped down and planted herself firmly in front of him.

Grabbing her hand, he gently kissed the back of it and smiled. "Good morning M'lady."

She frowned and shook her head in response. "What did I tell you?" She leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, saying softly, "Call me Belle."

Plunkett stared at her wide eyed as she leaned back. There was a faint blush on her cheeks, whether from her actions or from the brisk morning air he didn't know, her eyes were as blue as ever and her curls where braided back with a bow at the end that matched her green dress perfectly. He coughed and swallowed hard enough that he was certain that she heard it. "A-alright M'-…Belle." He paused and gestured to the horse. "You ready?"

Belle smirked, but otherwise paid no attention to his state of nervousness. She nodded and waited patiently as he climbed into the saddle and reached down to pull her up like the night before. Her arms went around his waist instinctively as he spurred the horse forward.

"Where are we going?" she asked next to his ear, holding tighter as the breeze blew around them.

"Somewhere where you don't run the risk of shooting someone." Plunkett chuckled even as she jabbed him lightly in the ribs and laughed softly herself. The sun had just risen and everything had that new morning glow to it. Belle inhaled deeply and smiled, adjusting her arms around Plunkett as she took in the scenery. He felt her move and tightened his grip on the reigns, his mind racing at having her so close.

He cleared his throat as he turned the horse up another path and said, "So why does a Lady need to know how to use a pistol?"

She thought about it for a moment then answered honestly. "I don't need to know I guess. But…" she paused. "But I want to. Isn't that enough?"

Smiling gently, he nodded and patted her hand on his stomach. "There is nothing wrong with wanting to learn anything in life M'lady. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

They rode over the glen and slowed to a trot as they came into a wide open meadow. The grass was tall around the edges and the tops blew in the morning air like waves in the ocean. A lone tree stood tall and proud in the center of it all, with thick roots perfect for sitting on and enough leaves for adequate shade. Plunkett stopped the horse and slid out of the saddle, reaching up and taking Belle by the waist, he lowered her to the ground gently. He then reached up and unhooked a saddle bag, hoisting it over his shoulder and walking to the tree.

Belle walked around the horse and plucked some grass from the ground, offering it to the animal with a flat hand. She smiled gently as the mare nibbled it off of her palm with hungry lips. Plunkett looked over at her as he heard a small giggle escape her lips, he smiled and shook his head, turning his attention back to the bag he said, "You know I've never seen her act like that. Normally she's a right foul wench."

"Now now, no need for name calling. Right girl?" she smiled as she fluffed the horse's mane and cooed over the beast. "What is her name Will?"

Plunkett pulled out a few pieces of parchment and a hammer and placed a nail between his lips as he lined the makeshift target up on the tree. "Her what?" he mumbled past the nail.

"Her name." Belle lifted her skits gently as she hopped over a small puddle and walked to Plunkett. "Surely she has one."

Plunkett shook his head as he finished nailing the target and turned to her. "Doesn't have one. She answers to certain whistles and tongue clicks, I never thought a name was needed." He bent down and pulled out his pistol from the pocket on the side of the bag. "Now, you want to learn right? You can use mine-…"

Her eyes lit up in excitement as she cut him off and dug through her bag, pulling out Macleane's pistol and holding it up proudly. "No need! I brought my own!"

Plunkett ducked and shoved her hand down, making her point the gun at the ground. "Careful! Where the bloody hell did you get that thing?"

"Your partner. He dropped it the night the two of you held up my father's carriage." She blushed as she admitted to the stealing of Macleane's pistol.

"And you kept it?" Plunkett smirked and raised an eyebrow. She was intelligent, a beauty and a thief. Plunkett was slowly losing his grip on his heart as he discovered more and more of her secrets. Belle nodded and looked at her feet before back up to him, not saying another word, fearing at any moment he would decide he had made a mistake by offering to teach her and make them return to her home. He did nothing of the sort and instead smiled again and went back to the bag. He picked up his own pistol and put it in his holster, he nodded for her to follow him and walked about 25 feet from the tree.

Holding up Macleane's gun he began to explain how the mechanisms worked. He addressed the major parts of the weapon and she nodded, her eyes full of wonder as she soaked up his every word like a sponge. This was what she wanted; she wanted to learn how to do this, just like a real adventurer. He handed the gun back to her and she took it gently in her hands.

"Hold it like I showed you." He said as she faced the tree. She extended her arm, holding the pistol in her right hand. "Good. Now cock it."

Belle was shaking. This was it. She reached up with her thumb and pulled back the hammer on the top with two small clicks. "N-now squeeze the trigger right?" she asked softly.

Plunkett nodded. "Right. Take your time. I want you to hit that ink dot in the middle of the tree."

Belle only took a moment's pause, squeezed one eye shut tightly and fired. The gun kicked back in her hand and it pointed up, she took a step back with the force of the shot and missed the tree completely. The echo bounced around the glen as a group of crows flew out of the trees at the edge of the woods with angry caws. Her eyes were wide, pupils small and he could literally see her heart fluttering beneath her breast. From the look on her face and the rigidness now in her body, Plunkett could see that it had frightened her. This had been a mistake; Belle was a lady and this was not the kind of activity he should be showing her. He put a hand on her arm gently and put his other hand over hers on the gun, making her point it at the ground.

"Belle. Enough. Look, you don't have to; it's not for everyone-…"

Belle shook her head furiously. "No. No, I want to do this. I want to learn." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes regaining her composure before opening them and looking back up into his face. The silence fell between them as their soundings settled back down once the sound of the shot had dissipated. "Please, let me try again." This was her chance at something new and exciting and she wasn't going to let her fear get in the way of her seizing it.

Seeing the determination in her eyes, he couldn't deny her this. Nodding gently he took his place back at her side while reloading the gun and handing it back to her. He looked back to the tree and let Belle regain her stance. She repeated the process all over and fired, once, twice, three times, all of the bullets missing the target or just barely catching the edge. Her form was much steadier this time around but it did not yield the results she was after. She growled in frustration and Plunkett had to bite his lip to keep from smiling at how adorable he thought the sound was. It was probably not in his best interest to chuckle at her frustrations when she held a loaded gun.

Plunkett reached over and took the gun from her, reloading it and then handing it back. He had an idea but it was bold and his heart hammered in his throat as he even thought about it. But he asked anyway, "May I?" He gestured to her. She nodded gently, not sure what he was talking about but saw the soft lines in his face and knew whatever he proposed would be in her best interests.

He let her keep the gun and he stood behind her. 'Keep your nerve Plunkett.' He thought to himself as he took a deep breath and put his hands on her waist firmly.

"Raise the gun like before." With his words Belle obeyed. She smiled, feeling his hands on her waist but didn't say anything. He leaned closer. Pressing the front of his body against the back of hers and leaned his face by her ear. With her hair in its braid, her neck was bare to him and he could whisper in her ear so as not to disturb her concentration.

"Place your finger on the trigger. But this time, take a deep breath. Slowly." He whispered as the meadow around them seemed to go still. "In through your nose, out through your mouth." Even the grass seemed to stop rustling as Belle did as he asked. Her chest rising, before falling slowly.

Plunkett squeezed her waist ever so gently as his palms began to sweat. He had never been this close to her before and as he breathed deeply with her, he noted how wonderfully she smelled. Of clean air and fine satin. Of roses and the sun. It was truly intoxicating.

"Take all the time you need." His mouth hovered closer to her earlobe. Belle focused on the target as the rest of the world slipped away. She breathed again as he instructed and closed one eye.

Squeezing her hips playfully as he saw the skin around her eye crinkle he said in a deep whisper, "Both eyes open dearie. Both…eyes…open."

Belle reopened her eye, and squeezed the trigger. The shot echoed through the meadow and whizzed through the air before hitting the middle of the target, spot on, splintering a bit of wood from the bark of the tree. Her eyes widened as she saw what she had done. Her mouth fell open in surprise as she turned to Plunkett in a mixture of pure joy, excitement and sheer pride.

"I did it! I really did it! Did you see…" she paused as she saw the look on his face. He looked at her in awe without holding back this time. In awe of everything she was. In that moment, gun in hand, she had never looked more beautiful and he wasn't about to miss a minute of it for the sake of honor. No gentleman ever stared at a proper lady so openly but then again Plunkett was no gentleman.

Belle dropped the gun to the grass with a thud and put her hand on his chest gently. He looked down at her hand against the coarse cloth of his vest and then back at her. Placing his hand over hers, he closed the gap between them and lowered his head, kissing her gently on the lips. Belle closed her eyes, having anticipated it and used her free hand to cup his face, her fingers barely touching his hair line at the nape of his neck. He pulled back quickly, leaving her eyes heavy as she blinked slowly. Her hand was still in his hair as he shook his head, stammering, "I saw. I saw. T-that was a hell of a shot. We should keep practicing."

She nodded, "You're right. W-we should practice more." She leaned back in before he could protest, sliding her arms around his neck and tilting her head, claiming his lips as her own.

He moved his hands to her hips, gently gripping the linen and making a soft noise that was very unlike him. He pulled back before the kiss could grow and shook his head again, his heart pounding in his chest, "I-I meant shooting. We should keep practicing your shoot-…"

"I know what you meant." She said like she didn't care in the least about her marksmanship and pulled him back down to her. He stopped arguing. Stopped fighting her and closed his eyes, taking over the kiss she kept him in place with her fingers in his hair. Regardless of if her fingers were there or not, this time Plunkett wasn't going anywhere. He tilted his head to the other side and placed a firm hand at the small of her back, bringing her flush against his chest. It wasn't enough. Timidly, not wanting to offend her, he ran his tongue along her bottom lip with the lightest of touches. As he waited for her to either comply or shove him away, his heart hammered in his throat and he wasn't sure fainting at this point was out of the question.

Belle felt it and shuddered, she tightened her hold on his hair and gave into the proposal his lips made. Parting her mouth ever so slightly, she thought she had forgotten how to breathe as Plunkett ran his tongue over the roof of her mouth and she issued a small noise that was not ladylike in the least. Pushing away her fear at her inexperience, she let him take over; allowing him to cup her face and move her to the angle he wanted, every moment sending shivers down her spine.

He reluctantly pulled back for air and looked at her but not before stealing a few more chaste brushes of his lips against her. For a few minutes, they said nothing. They didn't move. And as the morning birds chirped in the nearby trees, Belle wondered if they ever would.

She finally whispered, still only a few inches from his face, "H-how long have you wanted to do that?"

Plunkett thought about it and decided that his own heart deserved honesty as much as she did. He said quietly back, "Ever since you punched Macleane."

She smiled at the statement and let out a soft laugh. Macleane must have been his fellow highwayman and if that had been the moment that had sparked his desire of her, well, then he had been waiting an awful long time for this indeed. She was thankful he didn't apologize for what just happened, thankful that he didn't try to play the gentleman or follow the rules often customary of showing affection. There was nothing to be sorry for, she didn't want to take it back and in fact she was itching to kiss him again.

Turning to the tree and admiring the hole in the center of the parchment, she spoke without looking at him, "You are a wonderful teacher William." She touched the hole with a brush of her fingers, her soul swelling with pride at the realization that she had accomplished something of note.

His footsteps were quiet on the grass as he came up behind her and almost timidly put his hands back on her waist. Leaning down, he smelled along the exposed skin of where her shoulder met her neck. As her scent raised the hairs on the back of his neck, he felt no shame as he pressed a slow kiss against that beautifully light skin.

"There are many things I could teach you…Belle." His voice rumbled deeply as he slid his arms around the front of her.

Belle closed her eyes at the sound of her own name, wanting to commit this moment to memory. She believed he was telling the truth, there was a whole world she had yet to see, yet to experience and she knew somehow William would show it to her. All she had to do was let him. But could she? Was she ready to throw away her inhibitions and take this leap of faith with someone like Plunkett? She slowly moved out of his embrace as not to give him the impression that she didn't enjoy his touch and removed the target from the tree.

"May I keep this?" she said.

He let her go gently and placed his hands in his pockets and nodded, not saying anything. Had he pushed her? Gone too far? He would have given anything to know what she was thinking at that moment but he wasn't sure how to ask. He watched as she folded the piece of parchment and put it in her bodice. She walked over to him and put her hands on his upper arms and smiled excitedly.

"Can we go again? And this time, teach me how to load it too."

Plunkett looked to the sky and chuckled, his hands still in his pockets as he nodded again. He had offered to show her many things and this was as good a place as any to start on that offer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay guys, here we go. This should start picking up soon and of course I know what is coming so I am getting super excited! That being said, my excitement sometimes leads to me updating the chapter prematurely! So if something doesn't make sense or appears to be missing then let me know! It is hard to see plot holes because they are all present in my head, haha. Thanks for all your help. :)

Chapter 7:

* * *

 

Belle tucked Macleane's pistol, well now it was hers according to Plunkett, back under her bed after giving it a proper cleaning. Over the last two weeks Plunkett had taken her out to practice when the weather cooperated and they could sneak away without running the risk of being discovered. She had gotten fairly good with the weapon and every time she hit the target her entire being would swell with pride. William was an excellent teacher and his patience with her and his willingness to teach her in the first place only heighted her fancy of him.

She smiled to herself as she thought of her very own gentleman highwayman. Her father would never approve, the city would shun her and yet she had a hard time finding a reason to care. The entire affair was scandalous. But why should it be? Though he had no fortune to his name, no large mass of land under his boots and no say in parliament, William Plunkett was twice that of any man that Belle had ever met. Stations be damned. Money be damned. Belle tightened her grip on the window sill as she tried to come to terms with her anger at society. She was reaching her wits end and yet had no clue on how to remedy her situation.

Stacks of books littered the floor and she bent gently to scoop up an armful and put them all back in their proper places. After their days out in the meadow, William would often return to her room and leave his horse to graze as they quietly climbed the rose trellis up to the window. He shared his love of guns with her so she thought it had been only fair to give him something in return, her love of books. She had proposed the idea to him a few nights after their first outing and she had never regretted it. Once inside her room, and being the gentleman that he was, Plunkett would sit at her feet on the floor as Belle took the large straight backed reading chair in front of the fireplace. Smoothing her skirts and opening a worn book in her lap she would read softly aloud and he would listen, watching her lips dance across the words with eager eyes. After an hour or so, he would excuse himself and slip out into the night so she could rest. But after such an evening, sleep often eluded her and she would lay in the moonlight and smile to herself as thoughts of her secret companion danced in her head.

A knock came gently on the door and Belle stood up straight and placed the last book back on the shelf, saying quietly, "Come in."

Alice walked in with her face cast towards the floor. She twisted her hands in front of her and, mumbled 'I'm sorry my lady' before being shoved aside as Gaston walked through the door way. What space of the frame that wasn't taken up by his over bearing size was filled by a sense of anger that was practically radiating from him.

"Get out," he growled as he glared at Alice.

Belle placed her hands on the back of the reading chair and stood tall as the door to her room closed quietly and the two were left alone. When it came to Gaston, she wasn't afraid but there was no harm in putting a piece of furniture between them when he was this furious. He walked to the fireplace and chipped a piece of the paint off the mantle, staring at his fingertips without saying a word.

After a few long moments of silence, his laughter broke through the room. Deep and vibrating from his chest as he gripped the wood of the mantle and let his shoulders shake with whatever it was he found so funny. Belle's hands grew clammy as the noise put her on edge. After his bitter laughter quieted, he turned to her.

"Do you know what all of London is saying about me Belle?" he said with a smile, a smile that was all teeth and no soul. Belle stayed quiet and let him continue, she didn't know what to say so she thought it was best to say nothing. "All of London is aflutter my darling Belle. With rumors as to why the likes of  _you_  would turn down marriage to the city's most eligible bachelor."

"I haven't heard any rumors Gast-…" Belle tried calmly.

"That's because you haven't been listening!" he slammed his fist onto the wooden shelf above the fireplace and turned to her. "I have an image and you are spoiling it!" He strode across the room to her and his presence backed her into the book shelf.

"A month ago I was Gaston, the richest, most sought after man in London! Now I am the man that was rejected by Moe French's psychotic daughter. People are inventing reasons why you turned me down, some say I've lost my fortune, some say I'm a coward, high pitched giggles fill the ballrooms with words of Gaston the inadequate lover." He spoke quickly and harshly enough that a small amount of spittle escaped his lips and Belle winced away from it. He closed the inch between them and growled in her face, trapping her against the shelves. "You've made a fool of me Belle and I will not stand for it."

What could she do? Belle was trapped and she had defied him once before but she had lost her advantage when Gaston had lost his last ounce of common sense. Taking a slow breath she said flatly, "Gaston, I apologize. I don't know what you want me to do."

"I wanted you to marry me. That was all. But you lost the privilege…" He pushed away from her and walked back to the center of the room. Smoothing his hair back and shaking himself, he seemed at peace once more and acted as if his outburst didn't happen. He fixed his brown coat and cracked his neck twice before stopping and staring into the distance.

What was he talking about? This two-faced act was leaving Belle increasingly worried, but she couldn't help but be relieved that he was no longer in her personal space. She breathed a little easier and moved closer towards the door.

Gaston continued, "Your father is losing his position in parliament. I've talked to people higher than he and heard the whispers. It won't be long and he could lose everything."

This was not news to Belle. With the constant bickering between the classes and the country's increasing since of unease everyone's days in their current job were numbered. "What does this have to do with my father?"

Gaston smirked. "A powerful man looses everything, it is quite possible that he could have a…let's call it an 'accident'. Marry me and I could help to insure his…safety."

Belle's heart felt as if it had stopped beating in her chest. The world around her seemed to slow down as the room narrowed itself in on her. This wasn't happening. Gaston looked at her and by the evil that now lurked beneath his eyes she had no doubt that he was capable of anything. How could anyone be this monstrous? Tears burned in her own eyes as she looked away and gripped the shelf by the door. She felt sick. Any moment the bile that had built inside her stomach would find it's way onto the floor along with her if she didn't sit down soon. Everything was going so well these past few weeks with William that thoughts of Gaston and his anger had left her entirely. William. That was it. Maybe Plunkett could help. But what could he do? Gaston was proposing to murder her father if she didn't succumb, what could either of them possibly do.

While she was thinking, Gaston walked back up to her and said deeply, "The way I see it, you have two choices. Marry me and let your father live to walk you down the aisle. Or refuse me and come crawling back once you've lost what little the French name holds and you are fighting for a meal on the street. "

He kissed her cheek gently; a kiss so gentle that it should have never been paired with a situation such as this. That one act proved to Belle how far off the deep end Gaston had gone and she stifled a sob as the first tear escaped her cheek.

With that, he walked out of her room and slammed the door loudly enough that the noise echoed through the halls. Nothing more needed to be said, he had proved his point; he had won. Belle crumpled to the floor in a half seated position, her palms pressed against the hard wood as her crying took over and she shook in hopelessness.

 

* * *

 

"So who is she?"

Plunkett jerked his head up as he come out of his daydream at the sound of Macleane's voice. As they rode along the dirt road around dusk in silence, his thoughts had drifted back to Belle. They now had a funny habit of doing that more often than not and his partner had begun to notice his distraction.

"What are you talking about?" he said as normally as he could and sat up straighter in the saddle.

Macleane rolled his eyes and brought his horse up short, coming to a complete stop. "Oh come off it!" He moved in front of Plunkett's mare so he couldn't avoid the subject. "You leave every day before I wake up; I'm guessing it is so you don't have to explain where you're headed. You only return on nights that we plan our hold-ups and you are in a constant state of dreaming. So I ask again. Who is she?"

Plunkett forced himself to restrain the smile that wanted to break free at the mention of " _she_ ". She was perfect, she was beautiful and if Macleane only knew that 'she' was Lady Belle French, well then there might have been an issue. Plunkett had definitely set the bar high when he began courting, if that was what you could call it, Lady Belle, but then again he did always have a taste for the finer things in life.

For the last fortnight William and Belle had met in the early morning many times, traveled out to the meadow, and practiced improving her skill with Macleane's pistol. She was an apt student and Plunkett marveled at how quickly she was able to hit the center of his paper targets with ease. However, his Belle was a bright one and she already had him wrapped around her dainty finger. Often she would miss on purpose, several times in a row and turn to him with shining blue eyes and say gently, "Will, I just don't know what I am doing wrong?" It was merely an excuse to have him close, they both knew it but he would never say no to his pistol wielding beauty. He then would gladly stand behind her and place his hands on her waist and whisper words of advice in her ear as she practiced again.

Out in the meadow, in the crisp morning air was his favorite place to be lately. They would practice for hours, talking about nothing and he would steal as many touches and chaste kisses as she would allow him. She tumbled him into the grass the other morning and convinced him to lie still and simply look at the clouds. At first he felt foolish, but she didn't ask for much and he was willing to give her what he could. She told him of her books, of her father and of the life she someday wanted; he listened with eager ears and watched her lips move faster and faster as she grew excited about the things she spoke of. It took all he had not to roll over and kiss her for the rest of the day; instead, he settled for reaching down and gently taking her hand, he laced their fingers and she turned her head, beaming.

"Plunkett!" Macleane snapped his fingers in front of his partners face, looking annoyed.

"You wouldn't know her." He said quickly as he came back from his thoughts and turned his horse around Macleane's and spurred it into a trot.

"Oh no you don't." Macleane caught up with him quickly and stopped him again. "The only reason you would refuse to tell me is if I do know her or if your relationship with her is less than acceptable." He paused. "Or is it…both?"

Plunkett wanted nothing more than to gallop into the woods and avoid this conversation, but his friend wasn't going to stand for it. He had given the younger man so much shit for his infatuation over Lady Rebecca, it seemed only fair that it was now his turn. Macleane stared him down and kept his horse where it was, waiting for a response.

He finally sighed and looked up, closing his eyes and saying quietly, "Lady Belle French."

Macleane dropped the reigns, flailing for them as he almost fell off his own horse and looked at Plunkett with wide eyes. "Lady Belle French?  _Lady Belle French?!_ " He couldn't have looked more surprised if Plunkett would have said he was sneaking around with Rochester. "Are you barking mad?"

"Look, just drop it okay?" William rode around James and continued along the road.

"Oh no. No no no no no no." Macleane chuckled and he trotted alongside the other man. "Lady Belle French. At least we know that she gets along with Rebecca. Are you taking her to America? Do you think she is cut out for farm work? Building a cabin? The long ship ride across the ocean?"

Plunkett grew silent. His hunger for a new life in America was still there but in all honesty over these last few weeks it had been pushed aside. With Belle was the happiest he had been in London since before the dividing of the classes that had caused him to lose his shop and the family he almost could have had. She shed a little light on his broken heart and in all honesty he had followed it blindly; like a moth to a flame, he let her guide him by the hand towards a new happiness and in turn it had put America on pause.

"You haven't told her have you?" Macleane's tone of voice changed completely as he looked at his partner in crime. "Plunkett, I cannot do this without you. We are so close-…"

"I'll handle it. Trust me." He cut him off as they settled the horses into the edge of the woods. The conversation was going to end there for now; they had a job to do. The sun had already slipped beyond the horizon and both men reached back and slipped on their masks. It had been a week since they had accomplished a good robbery and tonight had to be perfect.

"After this is over are you going to go see her?" Macleane asked, adjusting the cloth over his face.

"Yes." Plunkett answered shortly and left it at that, he heard a carriage in the distance and clicked his tongue, taking the lead on this one. As the carriage approached, he galloped around the front while Macleane took the rear. They surrounded it with ease and forced the driver to come to a screeching halt.

"Stand and Deliver!" Macleane shouted as he jumped from the horse and ripped open the door of the carriage, gun raised and burlap sack in hand. Plunkett had his sights on the driver, who stared him down like a man possessed.

"Whatever you're thinking, it's not worth it mate." Plunkett said calmly as he kept his pistol pointed at the man's chest. Macleane was almost done and they would be well on their way in a matter of seconds.

"If only you knew just how much, you wouldn't say that." The driver said cryptically. Plunkett didn't have time to question the statement before the man raised his hand from where it lay on the seat and fired. The shot echoed around in the night as the bullet zipped past William, grazing his shoulder. His mare didn't rear back but instead stayed steady as he gripped the reigns tightly and walked the animal backwards.

He looked to Macleane and yelled, "GO!" as the two men settled for the loot they already had and speed off into the dark, away from the carriage and it's less than stable driver. They rode hard and fast; hooves kicking up clods of dirt until they made it deep into the woods and Plunkett transferred the reigns over to one hand. He then placed his free hand over his now bleeding shoulder. Macleane rode up to him, clutching the sack of gold and pulled his mask off, asking breathlessly, "What happened?"

Plunkett shook his head and looked down at his hand and the blood slowly pooling through his fingers, it wasn't fatal but it sure hurt like hell. "I don't know. He fucking shot me. Said 'if I only knew how much it was worth'."

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" Macleane scrunched up his face in confusion.

"I honestly don't know mate. But it can't be good." William winced as he moved his arm and adjusted himself in the saddle.

His partner didn't know what else to say and the uneasy feeling in his stomach was not something to be addressed now. The first goal was to patch up his friend and make it back to the flat in one piece. No one had ever fought back during a robbery with firearms and the fact that this night could have ended considerably worse for the both of them had left the two of them uneasy and a bit rattled. Silence fell between them before he looked to Plunkett and said in a calming manner, "Come on. Let's get you fixed up. The sun has set and you'd hate to keep Lady Belle waiting." He waggled his eyebrows and laughed as he rode off ahead.

For a moment, Plunkett longed to punch the pup in the arm for his suggestiveness but at the mention of Belle he couldn't help but smile and spurred his horse forward. Whatever plan of action that got him into her company the fastest was fine by him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I keep forgetting to put this buuuuuut kinda don't want to get sued. I do not own Once Upon a Time or the genius that is Plunkett and Macleane.

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Chapter 8:

Belle sat in front of the fire, her dress pooled around her in a blue silk so clear the flames made it look as if she were sitting on the glassy surface of a lake. A book was open in her lap and a trundle of hair had escaped the loose mess tied at her neck and now hung by the side of her face. She reached up gracefully and tucked it behind her ear and was so immersed in her story that she didn't hear Plunkett as he climbed the rose trellis and sat on her windowsill simply watching her. He had made more noise than normal due to the pain now in his left shoulder but he managed just fine, knowing that his prize was the beauty sitting on the floor only a few feet in front of him.

"My, my, my…" he said softly and smiled as she jumped and looked up.

Her head turned quickly to the window and her smile could have lit an entire London street. "Will!" she whispered as she slammed her book shut and placed it on the ground, before getting up and running to the window. They had seen one another almost every day for the past two weeks and yet every time she laid eyes on him she acted as if it had been years; he couldn't help but feel his ego swell just a little at the fact that he could bring her happiness of any kind.

"You're late." She said as she stopped in front of him and gave him a very coy look.

He smirked back and took her chin in his hand and said gently, "Sorry love, forgive me?"

She leaned in and whispered, "You're lucky you're handsome," before closing the gap and giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. Her arms wrapped around him tightly and as he tried to return the favor, he let out a hiss against her lips. Belle recoiled and held him at arm's length; her eyes quickly scanning his body for signs of his discomfort and her gaze landed on his torn sleeve that revealed his now bandaged shoulder.

"Will…" she whispered softly as he allowed her to drag him to the chair by the fire so she could look at him by the light.

"It's nothing. I promise. Please, stop, look…" he couldn't complete a full sentence as she moved the shirt and inspected the gauze, mumbling rapid incoherent phrases of half-hearted chastisement. She started undoing the buttons and he stilled her hands. Macleane had already patched him up; he wanted nothing more than to forget about the earlier part of the evening. " _Belle._ " He said firmly, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look him in the eyes. He softened his expression as she quieted, only to have it turn to one of curiosity as the fire also gave light to her own face.

Crystal blue eyes were incased in puffy lids and cheeks that were slightly red when he had expected perfect pigments of porcelain. Slight tension lines were drawn across her forehead and her braid that was always perfect in his presence was tossed into a bun at the nape of her neck. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

"Belle what is it?" he tucked a few curls behind her ear and she closed her eyes and leaned into the palm of his hand.

"Nothing. I promise." She whispered as he held her face and the both of them feigned perfect bliss so they could fawn over the injuries of the other. After Gaston had left that morning, Belle had locked the door and never left. For hours she sat staring into the empty fireplace, unable to read, unable to do anything but just be. Today the brave woman she had always aspired to be was nowhere to be found, and she hated herself for it.

Plunkett let it go, but it was not easy. She was in pain and he saw it but she wasn't ready to let him in as to what the cause of her misery was. He did the only thing he could and he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers softly. Once, twice, three times, he left small, slow pips of affection against her mouth while he held her cheek in his hand. Eventually she smiled and allowed her whole body to give a sigh.

"Don't think that gets you off the hook," she said softly. "Tell me what happened." Tapping his bandage, she placed her hands on his thighs and kneeled in front of him. Plunkett leaned back with a small smile and put his left hand over hers, propping his head up with the right. He could lie. Try and play it off as an accident, a scuffle between him and Macleane. But his Belle was no fool and to lie over something this inconsequential would be an insult to her intelligence.

"Tonight, when Macleane and I where," he paused, "…out, a bullet grazed me." Her eyes grew wide and she went to her knees in a straighter position and he added quickly, "It's alright. I promise. Just a scratch."

A playful smile broke across his lips and fell once Belle's expression remained the same. She was not amused and remained silent for a few moments before reaching up and moving his torn sleeve to the side.

"You were out on another robbery." It wasn't a question; they both knew the truth.

Plunkett nodded but otherwise remained silent. He waited for the scolding that he thought was coming but instead she placed her head on his knee and sighed quietly, closing her eyes. Belle knew that she loathed anyone who tried to tell her what she shouldn't do. As much as she cared about William's well being, she couldn't make demands of him and his profession, not just yet.

Her silence confused Plunkett. He expected anger, tears,  _anything_. But like always the woman with her head now in his lap was rational and loving and he wished he could take a peek inside that brilliant mind of hers. Placing his hand gently on her hair, he stroked the satin of her curls under the smooth calluses of his fingertips.

"I-it won't be forever you know?" he filled the silence with words more for his own reassurance than hers. "Macleane and I are so close. A few more jobs and we will have enough money for the America's."

"America?" she raised her head and looked at him.

"Yes. It's beautiful Belle. Rolling green hills and the sea and every man will get the chance he deserves. There will be towns, big and small and farms and-…" he stopped as he saw the smile that had broken out over her face. "What?" he asked.

She smiled and shook her head, "That is what you really desire isn't it?"

He nodded and sighed, looking down into his lap and closing his eyes. "More than anything." He said quietly.

Were she to deny that that statement did not make her chest hurt, Belle would have been lying to herself. Plunkett had a dream, an ambition and she admired that. In times like these without dreams, one had nothing, but his big dream of this new land left Belle feeling like she had no place in it. Biting her lip, she stood gently and crossed her arms under her breasts, walking away.

Plunkett felt the absence of her presence and his eyes opened quickly. He stood and couldn't take it any longer, she was acting so strange.

"Belle, please. What is it?" He stayed where he was, draping his tan frock coat on the settee at the foot of the bed before dropping his hands to his sides. He stared at her in confusion. This side of his beautiful Belle was new territory, she looked so sad and it made his heart ache for whatever pain she was feeling. Her eyes were now a dull cerulean instead of their normal ocean blue and Plunkett wanted more than anything to hold her and kiss away that haunting look.

Belle stood by the head of her bed and looked into the light of the candle. She was silent. Silent for so long Plunkett debated on whether or not he should prompt her again. The flame flickered softly as a breeze from the window blew into the room and Belle cupped her hand around the warmth before trickling her fingers through the orange diamond as she spoke quietly.

"Do you remember the night I found you in the bar?"

Plunkett nodded but said nothing.

She glanced back at him to see him nod before turning her attention back to the candle. "I said I was running away from my betrothed." She laughed bitterly at the word, thinking that it fit Gaston better than any other she could have chosen. Fiancée indicated love, betrothed indicated no other choice. "As much as you try, you cannot run forever. Whatever you're running from will find you in the end."

"You mean he came back?" Plunkett had never met the man and yet he felt his fists clenched in anger. She didn't appear to be harmed, not physically at least, but there were other harms that could be inflicted, harms that were not always visible.

Belle nodded. "And he's going to murder my father, unless…" She surprised even herself at how calmly that phrase left her lips. But then again it was easy to accept your fate when you were out of options. "Unless I marry him."

"Belle he can't do that." He all but blurted as soon as she had finished her own sentence. Plunkett shook his head and strode across the room to her side. He couldn't believe it, he refused to believe it. He couldn't accept this and he wasn't about to let her except it either.

"He  _can_  Plunkett." She turned to him and held her head high and had he not been standing so close, he would never have noticed the edges of her eyelids filling with unshed tears. "He can and he will. You were right. The inner circle of the city is a nasty place. You either play dirty or become trampled by the gilded carriages."

Plunkett was speechless. His Belle was not allowed to say such things. His Belle was not allowed to be so jaded. His Belle was the one flickering light that could never be extinguished in the storm of his heart. Plunkett wasn't sure when she became  _his_  Belle, but all he knew was that he wasn't going down without a fight. She looked up at him, raising her hand, she cupped his cheek and gave him the only smile she could muster and it was a poor excuse for the one he deserved. She was younger but at this point she felt like the age of her soul was weighing her down. However, just because her story was ending didn't mean that Plunkett's was. She found a minute sense of happiness in knowing that her William could live out his dream in America, even if it meant leaving her behind.

"When you finally get your adventure, try not to forget about us here in little old London." She tried to smile again but failed miserably when her voice cracked at the end, betraying her emotions. It had been too good to be true and like a foolish girl she had believed. Believed that William could be her salvation or that he would even  _want_  to. In the end he was going to leave, just like her mother, and now her father and she was going to be the dutiful wife that she was born to be. At the thought, tears resurfaced in her eyes and she moved to her window, staring out into the darkness and wrapping her arms around herself.

Plunkett's mouth fell open as he watched her. His words of America seemed to break her, even before she told him about her dilemma, was it possible that she wanted him to stay? Or was it possible that she wanted to accompany him? Surely not. But if she did…if she would agree in coming with him then all his fears and doubts that Macleane had addressed earlier that very evening were for nothing. He could get her out. Out of London, out of her engagement, simply,  _out._ She had rescued him from a certain kind of darkness and now was his chance to rescue her.

"He can't marry you if he can't find you." Plunkett said quietly as he remained standing at the foot of the bed.

"What?" she whispered as her bottom lip trembled slightly.

"And it would be even harder if you were separated by an ocean."

She snapped her head up, eyes wide with hope. "You don't mean-…"

"I do." He nodded. "Come  _with_  me."

She shook her head and couldn't help it as the first real tear slid down her cheek. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that the thing she wanted most without realizing it was being laid at her feet and she couldn't accept it. Oh it would work, if Plunkett really meant what he said, the plan of putting an entire ocean between them would save her from Gaston but there was still one problem.

"Plunkett I can't. M-my father. What about my father?" she wiped away the damp trails of her tear from her face hastily and looked at him.

From what he had gathered, her father had been absent from the whole ordeal. No respecting man would allow his daughter to be submitted to such treatment. As far as he thought, her father could go to hell. But the look in Belle's eyes told him that she would never abandon the only family she had left. William shook his head and hooked his thumbs in the edge of his belt confidently. "I'll figure it out.  _We_ will figure it out." He corrected. "There has to be a way." He paused, "Hell, I'll bring him with us." Chuckling after he finished his last thought he gave her a wide smile and gentle eyes, anything to change her mood. Plunkett was confident in his abilities when it came to scheming; all he needed was for her to trust him. However, Belle was torn. If she gave in to the hope that he could help her it was liable to go astray but then again if she didn't, what did she have left? Nothing.

She stared at him in disbelief, so young, so beautiful and yet so jaded. William didn't like the idea of someone so beautiful inside and out allowing the world to jade them. He wouldn't stand for it. Not if he could do something about it. Letting his smile fall, he looked at her gently, his entire tone changing as he whispered trying hard not to go to his knees and plead with her.

"Come to America. Let me steal you away. Belle-…"

"Yes." She cut him off and left her place by the window to return and stand in front of him. "Yes. Yes. William." With each word she drew closer and eventually he stopped her speech all together by seizing her mouth with his and scooping her up into his arms. That was what he wanted. No, what he  _needed._ Belle trusted him to do this for her and he would be damned if he failed.

They tumbled onto the bed and continued their devouring of each other and Plunkett forced himself to pull up on the reigns. He took her hands and placed them on his shoulders after he thoroughly kissed both of her palms. She sighed as he leaned down and nuzzled her head up, planting chaste whispers against her neck. The thing he treasured most in all of London was coming with him to the new world. Plunkett felt as if his heart was going to burst from his chest. She carded her fingers through his hair and smiled for real this time. Shutting her eyes tightly she willed herself to shed no more tears, too many had fallen today and now that everything was going to be alright there was no point in allowing any more.

"William…" Belle whispered. He looked up and she continued, "Will you stay? Tonight I mean. We…we could read more." She added the last apprehensively. As much as she valued William and knew he was slowly wrapping his firm hands around her heart, she hopped he would understand her wishes.

The edges of his mouth tilted up in delight at the proposition. "Whatever you'd like M'lady…"

Belle smiled more and turned on her side, burying her cheek against his chest and letting out a soft hum of contentment as he wrapped his arms around her back tightly. Plunkett reached over and grabbed a thin, well worn copy of one of Belle's favorite books from off of the dresser and rolled back over. She took it gently and allowed him to kick off his boots and pull his vest over his head before reclaiming his spot by her side. In that moment something changed. As she began to read softly and Plunkett continued his gentle nosing of her neck and squeezed her tightly with each kiss of her earlobe, something had shifted in the air. In that moment everything was going to be alright. In that moment they both could honestly believe that each could have what they desired.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Whoops I made angst. haha I really liked this chapter and hope you guys did too. Thanks for all the reads and those of you who have commented, thank you times a million. Review if you wish and Chapter 9 should be out soon.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

Laughter. There was so much of it. It filled the room as the waves of people moved about the French manor, mingling and dancing, eating and talking. To the outside eye it looked like any other celebration in London but to Belle it was a nightmare. She stood on the edge of the dance floor and wished she was back in bed, nestled in the blankets with William instead of laced up so tightly she could barely breathe. He had stayed as promised and kept her pressed against his chest, stroking her hair until she forgot her troubles and was able to drift off. The breeze coming in through the window would cause her to stir and he would tighten his hold and kiss the skin below her ear in reassurance that he hadn’t snuck out while she slumbered.

The morning came too early and they both woke with a start as the maid knocked on Belle’s locked door. They exchanged looks of horror as Belle threw off the blankets and hurried to the door.

“J-just a second Alice, I’m not dressed.” She lied quickly as Plunkett threw on his boots and decided not to bother with the fastenings. After weeks of not having a single slip up, they had both let their guard down. Plunkett had been so at peace with Lady Belle in his arms that he had fallen into the best sleep of the last few years and lost track of the time. Belle motioned for him to hurry and she ran with him to the window. Plunkett swung his legs over and stood on the trellis, leaning back inside.

“When can I see you again?” he said hurriedly.

“William there’s no time for this!” Belle laughed softly as she tried to push him down.

“When??” he smiled at her laughter and refused to budge, his pulse racing as the maid knocked again more loudly.

“Tonight, my father is having a party. I’ll make sure you and Macleane are on the list. _Now go!_ ” she continued to smile. He lunged up and put his hand behind her head and pulled her down for a last goodbye. He worked as much passion into it as his parting few seconds would allow before pulling away and leaving her breathless. Whistling for his horse, Plunkett jumped down the last few feet and mounted up as Belle hurried back to the door so as not to raise the maid’s suspicions. As she heard the distant thudding of the mares hooves, she opened the door and Alice was none the wiser.

Belle now leaned against the glass windows leading out to the balcony and smiled to herself at the memory. His eager eyes at the thought of seeing her again, and playful displays of affection in her presence caused her heart to flutter and her cheeks to burn in the best ways. The ball room was stuffy and the cool glass against her forehead helped make it a tad more bearable. A shadow fell on her and she reopened her eyes to look at Macleane.

“Well, he wasn’t exaggerating when he said you were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.” Macleane smiled and gave her a proper bow, kissing the back of her hand.

Belle blushed something fierce and curtsied. “Captain Macleane, you flatter.” She leaned in and whispered so they wouldn’t be over heard, “Did he really say that?”

James chuckled and nodded, “Aye M’lady.”

Belle stood back up positively beside herself and smoothed her bodice, trying to appear as a proper lady should as Plunkett walked up beside his partner. His breath caught in his chest as he took in her exquisiteness. The curls were bound in a French twist and although one of his favorite pastimes was running his fingers through all of her hair, he appreciated the unperturbed view of her neck line. The dress was a color he had never seen before and the deep crimson highlighted her pale skin in a way that made Plunkett want to drape her across sheets made of the very same color.

“Belle…” he said quietly.

“Plunkett! Where are your manners?” Macleane smacked him upside the head and covered for his friend’s loss of sense as the sight of his secret lady.

Plunkett winced and started to retaliate then remembered where they were and bowed deeply, “My apologies Lady French...”

“That is more like it.” Macleane huffed and turned back to Belle, sounding full of himself and speaking louder than was probably necessary.  “Lady French, I must speak with you but sadly my attention is required elsewhere for a moment. Would you mind if my servant accompanied you out to the balcony until I return?” Macleane gave Belle a knowing smirk and Plunkett bit his lip to keep from gaining one of his own.

“Oh not at all good sir,” Belle curtsied again, perhaps in dramatic emphasis and winked at Plunkett. She allowed William to take her by the arm and lead her outside. As soon as the door shut behind them, he pulled her into the shadows and placed her between the brick wall and his own body. Belle knew it was coming and parted her lips as he dipped his head and captured them in his own, inhaling deeply to close the gap. She slid her gloved hands into his hair and the satin feel against his scalp made him shudder. Her knees wobbled as he moved his attentions to her exposed throat and licked his lips enough so they could glide along her collar bone with ease.

“I don’t think this is what Captain Macleane meant when he asked you to accompany me.” She laughed breathlessly and gave a small yelp of surprise as he nipped her playfully and wrapped firm arms around her waist.

“Oh I think it is exactly what he meant.” Plunkett chuckled and looked down at her. “You look lovely.”

Belle blushed and looked down smiling before turning her head back to him. “Thank you.”

He ran his fingertips along her shoulder, down the lower part of her arm and stopped when he reached the edge of the glove. She relaxed her hand and allowed him to slide the fabric off gracefully and he bowed once again to kiss the back of her hand directly. He moved up her arm stopping every so often to kiss her skin which only made Belle shiver and lean more heavily against the rail of the balcony.

She took a deep breath and stroked his left shoulder gently, whispering in the darkness of the night, “How is your arm?”

Plunkett stopped what he was doing and looked at her gently, wanting to run his fingers through her hair but resisting so as to not mess up her pinned back locks.

“A little sore,” he said honestly. “But don’t you worry love.” He glanced back to the ball room and into the glowing windows. They were concealed from the wondering eyes of anyone still enjoying the party and Plunkett was thankful for that fact. “That wanker you told me about…is he here?”

Belle smiled at the insult and nodded, “Gaston? Yes, he’s here. This…” her smile fell and she covered her face with her hands. “Oh William…he is making everyone believe this is our engagement party.” She pulled herself together and shook her head. Before Macleane and Plunkett had arrived everyone in the ball room had been slowly coming up to her and offering her congratulations. At first she was confused and then as she locked eyes with Gaston at the other end of the hall, she knew. She knew what he had been saying, knew what was going on. He knew that she would never abandon her father, he knew he had won and therefore knew that she would accept his proposal because she had no other choice. However, Gaston was still oblivious to Plunkett and his promise to Belle and she would do anything to keep it that way.

Plunkett took a deep breath. In through his nose and out through his mouth. His mind was entering that place he went right before a hold up. The calm before the storm. This man had caused Belle so much pain in the last few weeks alone, how long had it gone on before Plunkett arrived? None of that mattered now; tonight it was going to end.

“Where is he?” Plunkett said calmly.

Belle’s eyes grew wide and she looked up. “Will, no don’t-…”

They both looked up as the door to the balcony opened and the noise of the party pierced their moonlit silence. It was Macleane. “Plunkett!” he called in a harsh whisper, not seeing them in the shadows. As both Belle and his partner came into the light he gave a sigh of relief and continued. “Plunkett, we have a problem.”

“You better believe we do.” Plunkett said firmly and moved around Macleane to walk back into the party.

Macleane looked baffled but followed his friend after holding the door open for Belle. Plunkett was now a man on a mission. He looked around the people in the ballroom and saw his intended target right away. Belle had briefly describer the tosser and it wasn’t hard for William to figure out that Gaston was the oversized, pompous git at the far end of the hall. The man in question was talking loudly with a few other men and they all filed out onto the front porch for a smoke. Plunkett followed without delay, knowing that Belle and Macleane were hot on his heels. Social status be damned, appearance be damned; anyone who wanted to watch was welcome to. All his life the aristocrats of the city took what they wanted from him and he had let them, not anymore. He was a highwayman god dammit, his days of taking society’s shit were over and so were Belle’s. Macleane called after him and he heard the click of Belle’s heels on the ballroom floor but his mind was made up and he refused to slow down. Gaston was outside on the front courtyard and he addressed the small cluster of men guffawing on the manor steps.

“Mister Delacour?” He said loudly and the men fell silent. As soon as Gaston removed his pipe and turned his head in response, Plunkett recoiled his arm and struck the man right between the eyes. Gaston fell down the steps and Macleane yelled for his partner, putting himself between Belle and the commotion. The lackeys surrounding Gaston had Plunkett quickly and shoved him up against the side of the house as their leader scrambled to his feet, his face a bloody mess. He looked around, assessing what had happened and his eyes fell on Belle. Slowly wiping the blood from his face he growled to the other men on the porch and pointed at Plunkett.

“Hold him.”

It took three of them to restrain Plunkett as Gaston shoved Macleane aside and grabbed Belle by the face. “I knew it. I knew there was someone stealing you from me. What did you do? Cry to him about how unfair I am?” Gaston chuckled deeply as Belle winced and tried to pull away.

“Gaston…” She tried.

“Oh don’t Gaston me…you little-…” He stopped short as the front doors to the manor opened and they now had a relatively large audience. Releasing Belle, he pulled her into the crook of his arm and held her tightly. Belle’s father was the first out onto the porch and he looked around with wide eyes.

“Belle, what is the meaning of this?” He looked from his daughter, to Plunkett still fighting the men, to Gaston and he gawked at the amount of blood coming from his face.

“Papa…” she started but Gaston gripped her arm, a clear warning that if she said the wrong thing then there would be repercussions. Silence fell over the whole party and Maurice demanded a proper explanation once again.

“Sir, I was only enjoying this beautiful evening when this _dog_ attacked me.” Gaston said, wiping the blood from his nose as best he could with a pocket kerchief and releasing his hold on Belle.

“That’s a lie!” Plunkett snarled and successfully shoved one of his captors off of him. There were incoherent shouts from both sides and Maurice put his foot down and held up his hands.

“Enough!” he paused and looked to Macleane. “Captain Macleane, I had high hopes when I saw your name on the guest list tonight but it seems I have misjudged you. Take your servant and kindly remove yourself from my home.” He cast a dirty glance in Plunkett’s direction as the younger man shoved the rest of Gaston’s men off of him and stumbled onto the steps, straightening his coat once his balance had been reclaimed.

Belle had had enough. ‘ _Be brave Belle, be brave,_ ’ she thought as she wrenched her arm from Gaston and stepped up. “Papa, listen please. That is not-…”

“No Belle. This is not your place. Inside.” He pointed firmly to the door, towards the dissipating crowd. Belle didn’t move, she looked at Plunkett hopelessly and then back to her father. Once the gawking maidens had left, Gaston approached Plunkett and loomed over the man, lowering his voice to a deadly growl.

“I will have my vengeance for this you mutt.”

Plunkett was not intimidated in the least and nodded, looking up and meeting the much larger man’s eyes confidently. “Anytime. Anyplace. You ignorant wanker.” He resisted the urge to hop forward and head butt the pompous git.

“Dawn. The abandoned barn on Miller’s Road. I assume you know the rules.” With a nod from Plunkett, Gaston turned on his heel and shoved his way back into the ball room. Not even bothering to wait for Belle or the rest of his accompanying party. Belle ran to Plunkett and put her hands on his arms, not caring who saw or what they thought.

“William, please, _please_ don’t do this. I know Gaston. I know what he’s like.” She looked up at him with her pleading blue eyes and he cupped her cheek gently, giving her a dashing smile in reassurance.

“Do you have such little faith in me love?” he ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek and lowered his voice to a whisper only the two of them could understand. “I taught you to shoot didn’t I?”

Belle shook her head and whispered back, “It’s not my lack of faith in you; it’s my lack of faith in _him_ to play fair.” She put her head on his chest and talked into the soft material of his dinner jacket. “Please, Plunkett please.”

Maurice saw her actions and was both confused and enraged, “Belle! Inside, now!”

Plunkett slowly removed her from his arms and held her at arm’s length, dipping his head ever so slightly so he could look her straight in the eyes. “Now you listen to me. I’ve done this before.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear, placing a hand on her hair gently as to hold her in place. “Tomorrow night, after this is all said and done, we will finish that favorite book of yours. Nothing is going to happen because I have to know how it ends.” He gave her a smile at that and added quickly as he father yelled for her again. “Leave your window unlocked…”

Belle simply stared at him as he released her gently and his bit her lip, shaking her head over and over. Plunkett was in danger and it was her fault. She felt more than heard her father’s anger and she longed to throw her arms around William and persuade him with her kisses not to do this, not for her. But to do so would spell trouble for the both of them. There were too many witnesses; much more affection and their touches could not be explained as common decency. He gave her another encouraging smile and nodded for her to go inside. He had to go home and get his gun.

 

* * *

 

 

“Plunkett stop. Listen to me!” Macleane pleaded as Plunkett moved about the room, changing into more comfortable clothes. He tossed off the silk cloth at his neck and kicked his shiny shoes under the bed. The whole ride home Macleane had been on fire. Raving about Plunkett’s rashness, about how he had lost sight on the importance of their dream and how he was going to get himself killed. Plunkett wasn’t listening, he was focusing. This was serious, this was for Belle. Loosing was not an option. Macleane pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and held it up.

“Would you look at this??” He shoved it in Plunkett’s face. “Rebecca slipped this in my pocket on the dance floor. There are after us, we have to lay low.”

Plunkett observed the tattered wanted poster, with rough sketches of their masked faces in the center. Macleane continued, “Look who is putting up the reward, _Gaston_. He’s in alliance with Mister Chance, the bloody head of the militia! He is bad news-…”

“All the more reason for me to kill ‘em.” Plunkett snarled as he pressed the poster back into Macleane’s chest.  So this was the reason the jobs had been getting more difficult, this was why that crazed driver had pulled a pistol on him; they now had a bounty on their heads. Macleane grabbed his friend by the arm and looked at him intently.

“Be honest with me. When I first started courting Rebecca, you said I was just satisfying my lust. Is that all it is with Belle? Lust?”

Plunkett jerked his arm free and glared back in response. “How dare you, you ignorant pup. You think I don’t care about America? Fine. You think I’m blinded by lust? Fine. Stay behind then, I don’t need you.”  He slung his holster over his waist and walked out of the room with Macleane hollering after him. He wasted no time and threw himself up onto his horse and snapped the reigns, galloping off into the dark. For years he survived on his own without Macleane, he could do it again. He had to do this, for America, for him and most importantly, for Belle. The sky around him was becoming a light lavender as dawn quickly approached, it was becoming easier to see and he spurred his horse onward as he took the well known path through the forest. He came upon the old barn and slowed down the mare, patting her gently as she looked around on edge. Turning her around, inspecting the area slowly, he slid from the saddle once it appeared he was alone, he was wrong.

“Well well, you actually showed up.” Gaston stepped from the broken door of the old building and popped his knuckles. He shrugged off his expensive looking coat and tossed it over the saddle of his horse. “Where’s your back up?”

“I don’t need any.” Plunkett gave his own mare a light nudge so she would go and graze far away from whatever was about to happen.

“Oh, so brave. Is that what drew my little wench to you?” Gaston smirked and looked Plunkett up and down.

“Don’t you dare speak about her, you-…”

“Temper, Temper.” Gaston snapped his fingers and out walked three other men, the very same ones that had restrained Plunkett earlier tonight. “Some would say coming alone was brave. I like to think it was rather stupid.”

The men at Gaston’s beck and call were all considerably large and looked to be considerably dim witted. Plunkett looked around slowly as each man took up one of his flanks, his hand moved to the butt of his gun on instinct and a fist collided with his jaw.

“Nicely caught Lefou!” Gaston clapped slowly as his right hand man took the gun out of Plunkett’s holster and pocketed it for himself. “Let’s not spoil the fun now Mister…What did she call you? Plunkett? A worthless name, for a worthless man.” The rest of his entourage chuckled deeply at the mocking words and moved closer; Gaston crossed his arms over his broad chest.

Plunkett went to one knee with the punch, keeping half of his balance as he rubbed his jaw and glared at the man that hit him. He was around Plunkett’s size, but rather round in the middle; his beefy arms hung at his sides as he waited to see if Plunkett was going to retaliate. Unarmed and outmanned, he wasn’t looking to do anything rash; he slowly stood up stayed silent.

Gaston walked up to Plunkett and tied his coal black hair out of his eyes. “Here’s the deal, you’re going to stay away from Belle. When it comes to taking care of her, I just don’t think you can… _shoulder_ the responsibility…” With that, he grabbed Plunkett by the left shoulder and squeezed over his bullet wound. Plunkett winced and crumbled under the force of his grip as pain shot though his shoulder and coursed through his entire body. How had he known? His mind raced as he concluded that Gaston must have been behind the deranged carriage driver the other night. It had been a rouse, a set up, all to lure the gentleman highwaymen out into the open. The man they had robbed had been working for Mister Chance as the man in front of him.  

He squeezed harder and Plunkett bit his lip, refusing to cry out and instead tried to struggle against Gaston. However, his attempts were in vain, the man easily out weighted him by over 100 pounds.

“My my, feisty thing aren’t you? Tonight is my lucky night boys!” Gaston chuckled deeply, pure joy issuing from his chest in deep waves and he squatted in front of Plunkett. “When I kill you tonight, not only will nothing stand between me and Belle, I’ll get to collect the reward on finally ridding the city of the _gentleman highwayman_.” With that he made and fist and uppercut Plunkett, knocking him backwards onto the grass. The men standing around jeered and issued howls of encouragement.

Plunkett rolled to his side and spit out blood. Belle had been right, Gaston had no intentions in a fair duel and the good man inside Plunkett had believed surely this man had some scrap of honor when in fact he had none. The sun was coming up now, the light around them was beginning to show and Plunkett grabbed one of the men by the leg before they could kick him and pulled them down to the ground as well. His act of defiance received him another jab to the ribs from the opposite side and he winced without thinking.

“Let’s speed this up boys, I have appointments today…hold him.” Gaston said sharply as Lefou grabbed Plunkett by the hair and forced him onto his knees. Another man, only a little smaller than Gaston, grabbed him by the bad shoulder and applied pressure to his bandaged tendon. Plunkett struggled and let out a string of curses as Gaston opened up the saddle bag on his own giant black stallion and revealed a pistol. A fair duel Plunkett could handle, but four against one was another story. He had to do something, had to break free if only to escape. As much as he hated anything involving cowardice, he had to make it back to Belle, back to Macleane, this was much bigger than his own life; other people were counting on him now too.

“I’ll hand it to you Plunkett. You sure are brave, to be so _worthless._ Did you actually think you had a chance with my Belle? That her father would accept you?” He hit Plunkett across the face with the butt of the revolver and stood in front of him. “You’re nothing. And now no one will even morn your death.” He clicked the hammer on the gun and pressed the barrel to Plunkett’s forehead. “Don’t worry my good man…I’ll take care of our girl.”

Belle gripped the reigns tightly as she snapped them, urging the horse to go faster. After Macleane and Plunkett had left the party she had spent the rest of the evening avoiding Gaston and trying to brush off her father’s questions. He accepted her lies of Plunkett being merely an acquaintance but he refused to believe that Gaston had been the one to cause the scuffle and told her she was not allowed to associate with the Captain and his servant. Belle was furious. Her father was so blind to status and money that he couldn’t see what was right in front of him. After returning to her chambers, she had paced the room, up and down, back and forth and knew that she couldn’t simply stay at home while Plunkett could very well be in danger for his life.

As quickly as she dared, giving her father and the rest of the household plenty of time to retire for the night, she dressed in her riding pants and pulled on the only pair of boots she owned. She strived for comfort and practicality as she threw her rucksack over her shoulder and quickly climbed down the trellis. She ran to her father’s stables and saddled his fastest of stallions. Plunkett had shown her the basics on his gentle mare and she used that knowledge now. She snapped the reigns again as the trees flew passed her, lightly scratching her exposed flesh. Not being as skilled at riding as William was, she pressed on, ignoring the stinging of the thorns and focusing on the rhythmic thundering of her stallion’s hooves. She topped the hill and her worst fears were confirmed as she laid eyes on Plunkett.

“William!” she yelled, but she was too far for her words to carry and she galloped faster.

He was on his knees in the weeds with Gaston’s pistol pressed to his forehead. She would never make it in time. Her horse pranced in place as she looked around for answer as to what to do. Her mind raced as she slipped off the stallion and dropped to one knee, digging through her bag and breathing rapidly. ‘ _Hurry Belle, hurry.’_ She delved through her bag and bit her lip as she heard Gaston’s voice echoing through the glen. His words were not important, the only thing important was on his knees in need of her. She found what she was looking for and tossed the bag aside.

The metal of Macleane’s pistol was cool in her hand as she raised her arms and cocked it. Her heart was racing, blood pounding in her ears, she willed her hands to stop shaking, this was her only chance. Squeezing her eye shut, she shook her head quickly. The ghosts of Plunkett’s hand were at her waist and she felt his presence even though he was halfway across the field. Her eye opened up slowly as she heard his gentle voice in her ear, ‘ _Both eyes open dearie, both eyes open…’_

She let out a breath, aimed in the middle of Gaston’s broad chest and pulled the trigger, with hesitation. The shot echoed across the nearby trees and his large form crumpled to the ground as her bullet struck home. Shouts of confusion and terror broke out amongst his men as two scattered into the woods and one hurried to his side. Plunkett stumbled back with the force of relief and looked around wildly for the source of his salvation expecting to find Macleane, but instead he laid eyes on Belle. Breathless, feral and shaking, her eyes met his and her hands fell to the side, clutching the pistol and staying rooted to the ground. Macleane hurried up behind her on his own brown mare, his eyes making sense of the scene as he broke through the line of the trees.

He jumped from his horse before it had even stopped moving and he looked at her, breath heaving. “Belle…” he said quietly. “W-what have you done?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys for all the support. If the editing is sub-par on this, I blame my back. I threw it out and typing is difficult but I pushed through! Review if you wish and I do not own Once Upon a Time or Plunkett and Macleane.


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